


Never Felt This Way Bee-fore

by sainnis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Caretaking, Cottagecore, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Heartbeats, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Keith (Voltron) Has Magic, Keith (Voltron) is a Healer, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Pets, Puns & Word Play, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Communicates with Animals, Shiro (Voltron) Has Magic, Soft Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: To the surprise of Keith's parents, plant mages who run a vineyard on the quiet island of Astermel, Keith's healing magic manifests three days before his 18th birthday, making him the first in his family with such powers. At the same time, Shiro arrives on the island, a boy with a magetech arm who can speak to animals and charm bees. Both of them begin their mage apprenticeships expecting to learn how to control their magic, but neither expects how much they'll change one another's lives or how deep their feelings for each other might grow over the course of a year.Or, the soft cottagecore AU in which Keith and Shiro become best friends, practice their magic, and fall in love.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 103
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DropsOfAutumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/gifts).



> I had the pleasure to get DropsofAutumn as my Sheithletines giftee! Her original prompt was: _Small Town-AU with cottagecore vibes and a hint of childhood friends to lovers <3 : Beekeeper Shiro falling in love with the son of the vineyard owners next door who recently came home to help his parents with the wine harvest. Including cute bee-related pick-up lines_
> 
> I took a few liberties with the plot and decided to add magic, because baby Sheith mages are precious, and of course some puppy Kosmo and kitty Black since Kass always writes such delightful pet moments! My hope was to make a peaceful, sweet world in which Keith and Shiro could grow and care for each other in their own unique ways, pouring in as much comfort and softness as I could. Kass, I hope you enjoy your gift! Thank you for giving me such a lovely prompt. It was a joy to write this for you!
> 
> A special thanks to @goldentruth813 for being a cheerleader and brilliant idea-bouncer, and all praise to @leandralena who served as my amazing, fast-as-lightning beta! ❤️

SUMMER

It is said that Astermel Island is big enough to hold all of your hopes but small enough that none of your secrets are safe. 

Under typical circumstances, Keith would agree, but right now, Astermel is far too big a place to search for one very small puppy. 

His stomach clenches as he checks the shed one last time before heading towards the fields, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Kosmo!” Did puppies learn their names overnight? Keith drags a hand through his dark hair, trying to control his breathing to ward off tears. He was just a tiny slip of a pup, blue-grey and mostly eyes and tail. All his life, Keith had wanted a dog, and when his magic manifested three days before his eighteenth birthday, Kosmo had been his parents’ gift to him. A gift he promptly lost. 

His family’s land spreads before him like an ocean, its waves made of trellises and its whitecapes made of grape leaves. Their wine is vibrant and rich, due in no small part to his parents’ dual gifts as plant mages. There’s never been a seedling that Krolia couldn’t coax back to life, and there’s never been a vine that didn’t wind towards the sun when Tex spoke softly to it. The land had belonged to Krolia’s family, but after she and Tex fell in love, everyone on Astermel swore the wine they made together was even sweeter than the bottles before.

Usually, he finds the scent of rich earth and blossoms calming, but instead it reminds him of how much ground Kosmo could have covered by now, how far in he might have gotten into the vineyards. He jogs along the paths, sweat already dripping along his neck as the warm breeze shakes the greenery around him. Keith keeps calling Kosmo’s name, trying to keep fear out of his voice. Part of him wishes his parents were here instead of at the farmer’s market in the village over, but the other half is grateful they don’t know yet how careless he was. On his birthday, his mom remarked that he beginhis apprenticeship before summer’s end, but if she knew he couldn’t even keep track of a tiny puppy for one afternoon, he doubted she’d feel the same. 

He calls until his throat is sore.

By the time he makes his way back towards the house, almost two hours have passed. His hands are dirty and his eyes sting with tears, rubbing them away roughly with the back of his wrist. He pulls out of his phone, flicking through names of the neighbors. Maybe Kosmo crossed over onto someone else’s land. Keith rubs the back of his neck, blowing out his breath with a curse. He hopes he didn’t get too close to the road. As he swipes open his phone, Kosmo’s face greets him as the screen background. He’s just so _little_. Keith’s chest heaves as he tries to get a breath. If anything happened to him, if he can’t find him… he can’t even bear to think about it.

“Um, excuse me?”

A voice Keith’s never heard comes from outside the entrance to the vineyards. He quickly scrubs at his tears. His parents hadn’t mentioned a vendor stopping by today, but sometimes they don’t make appointments. He clears his throat, grimacing when it hurts from all his shouting. “In here,” he calls. 

Underneath the trellis, a figure steps into the sunlight, silhouetted by the brightness. “I’m sorry to barge in,” he says. When the sunshine recedes enough for Keith to see him, it reveals a young man, easily over six feet tall. He grins, his dark hair—streaked through with a hint of white—falling over his forehead. “I think I found someone who belongs to you.” In the stranger’s arms, Kosmo starts to wriggle, his tail thumping against the guy’s chest.

“Kosmo!” Keith runs towards him, gratefully scooping the puppy up and pressing his face into Kosmo’s fur. “There you are! I was so worried!” Kosmo licks Keith’s neck and jaw, snuffling into his shirt. “Thank you so much! How did you even find him?”

The guy shrugs as he gives a soft laugh. “He found _me_.” He rubs his forearm with his palm, and Keith sees the flash of silver metal and aqua light. It’s magetech. “Poor little guy was trying to get into our barn.”

“Wait.” Keith settles Kosmo more comfortably in his arms, and the puppy rests his head on Keith’s shoulder. “Your barn? I've never seen you before and I’ve lived here my entire life.”

“Oh! Yeah. My grandparents bought the land across the way. They moved in first, but I just arrived last night.” A faint flush creeps over his cheeks, and highlights a scar over the bridge of his nose. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro.”

“But...if you just got here last night, how would you even know Kosmo was mine?”

The flush deepens. “He told me.”

Keith glances at Kosmo, confused. “Um, what did he tell you? And, like, how?”

Shiro gives a bashful smile. “He said you smelled like grapes and sunshine. I figured he had to live here." He reaches out and pulls a leaf out of Keith’s hair. “I’ve, you know, always been really good with animals.” 

“You’re a mage,.” Keith feels his heart beat faster. There’s quite a few on the island, but not many close to his age. 

Shiro backs away a step. “I didn’t mean any harm.” The ease of his body disappears, his shoulders suddenly tense. 

“Oh!” Keith shakes his head. “No, please. I mean, I’m one, too. My whole family. There’s plenty of mages on Astermel. You’ll fit right in.” It gives Keith a surge of relief when he sees Shiro’s smile return. His eyes light up when he smiles. “I’m Keith, by the way.” He tilts his head towards the house. “Why don’t you come in? This poor guy needs some water and food.” He kisses the top of Kosmo’s head. “We still have some cake left, and I’m dying for some tea. Least I can do for the hero that reunited us.”

Shiro hesitates, but then cracks a grin. “Cake, you say?”

Keith leads the way into the house, holding the door for Shiro. Everything he wears looks like he just stepped off the beach, from his turquoise board shorts to his leather sandals. There’s just so _much_ of him. Keith suddenly feels small in comparison, even though he’s grown two inches in the past year, and a bit grubby in his old cutoffs and dirt-stained tank top. “Before you say anything, my parents are plant mages.”

Shiro stands in the middle of the living room, looking up at the entire wall of potted plants growing there, their tendrils making a living tapestry. “So I gathered.”

“I seriously don’t know how it skipped me.” 

“So, wait, you’re not a plant mage, too?” Shiro follows him into their massive kitchen, which features multiple skylights to provide sunshine for the host of herbs and other plants growing there.

“Nope.” He sets Kosmo down, tapping on the side of his water bowl until the pup starts lapping up a drink. “Good boy,” he croons, getting out some dry puppy kibble. “Poor little guy’s got to be starving.”

“He, uh,” Shiro says, leaning against the counter. “Mostly he was missing you.” He flushes a little. It’s cute when he does. “I get, like, flashes. You know, little bits of the things they sense or feel. Sometimes I can communicate with them, if they trust me enough.”

“That’s amazing.” Keith scrubs behind Kosmo’s ears. “I missed you too, my bean.” He crosses to the stove and puts on the kettle before lifting off the ceramic lid from the cake stand. “It’s leftover birthday cake, but I promise it’s still really good.”

Shiro studies the cake. “Whose birthday?”

“Mine. My, uh, powers manifested right before so it’s been a little wild. My parents tend to be enthusiasts.” He starts to cut Shiro a slice, but then makes it bigger. “This okay?”

“You anticipated my sweet tooth correctly. And happy birthday.” Shiro gets a smear of chocolate frosting on his left thumb and licks it off, and Keith’s mouth goes dry. “You never told me what kind of mage you are.”

Keith’s still thinking about chocolate. “I’m sorry, what?”

“If you’re not a plant mage, what kind are you?”

“Oh.” Keith realizes the kettle is whistling and he pulls it off, buying himself time as he fusses with the tea at the kitchen island. He indicates a seat for Shiro, one painted with violets on the back. His mom had decorated them with all her favorite flowers. “Healing. Um, I’m a healer. Or will be, I guess.”

Shiro accepts the cup, holding it up to his mouth as the steam rises, disappearing into his forelock. “I much prefer healers to doctors,” he says. 

“We’ve, uh,” Keith says, “never had one in the family.”

“I bet you’ll be a good one.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to blush. “You just met me.”

“Well,” Shiro says, taking a bite of cake, “we’re friends now. And you’ll find I’m an excellent judge of character. Also, of puppies.” He leans down to give Kosmo a scritch. “Any chance you have any honey for the tea?”

“One second.” Keith opens up the pantry, its doors carved with winding grape vines by his father. The two of them hadn’t found a surface in the house they couldn’t find a way to paint, carve, decorate, or otherwise embellish. “The land your family just bought, the old Alfors’ place. They had hives.” He finds a jar buried in the jams from last season. “This was from their bees.”

Shiro’s expression lights up as Keith hands him the jar. “It’s okay if I open it?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Shiro’s metal fingers nimbly and delicately turn the ball jar lid, the movements so graceful that Keith can’t help but stare. He recovers himself and goes to sip his tea, but Shiro gives him a wink. “Your first time seeing magetech?”

“Oh, I mean, I’ve seen it before, but not one like yours! The Holts are our neighbors. I’ve gotten yelled at for messing around their workroom but I don’t think that counts.”

Shiro’s expression tightens. “Should I be worried? They’re going to be helping me with my prosthetic going forward. I’m, um, hoping to not have to leave Astermel for that.”

“Oh, they’re fine! Kinda absent-minded at times, and they’ll take your phone apart if you leave it lying around their house, but they’re great. I’m sure they’ll be glad to work with you. Matt and Pidge will be happy to have another kid around. Not that you’re a kid. I mean, you know.” Keith lets himself stare for a moment longer at Shiro’s magetech arm. The metal gleams like stars and light travels along the inside like illuminated veins. “Your, uh, magetech. It’s really beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Shiro ducks his chin before eating another forkful of cake. “I’m supposed to go around and introduce myself soon.”

“If you need directions, let me know. I could find my way across Astermel blindfolded.”

Shiro takes a spoonful of honey from the jar, dribbling a bit on his plate and then swiping a finger through the golden substance before popping it in his mouth. He considers, and then frowns. “Those bees,” he says, licking the spoon this time, “are not happy.”

“What?” Keith takes his spoon and nabs a little honey, tasting some for himself. “It just tastes like, you know, honey.”

Shiro shakes his head. “If this is what you think honey tastes like, I feel a little bit sorry for you. When the bees are happy, it’s an entirely different thing. This is kind of bitter, you know? Like that off note at the end? Bees aren’t easy to read, but their honey tells you everything.” He sighs, pushing aside the jar. “Well. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

Kosmo whines at Keith’s feet, and he reaches down to scoop him up. “Aww, little bean. I didn’t forget you.” Keith holds him close to his chest, rubbing the soft bit of fur between his eyes. “It must be wild to be an animal mage. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Shiro reaches out and scritches over Kosmo’s back. The pup immediately relaxes even more against Keith, letting out a contented sigh. “I don’t exactly know what they’re thinking, to be fair.”

“I hope he likes it here. I mean, everything’s so new for him and he’s so little still. His mom was seventy pounds, though, so he’ll grow.” Keith touches one of the puppy’s giant paws. “But I know it’ll take awhile before he knows this is home.” 

“If it helps,” Shiro says, his forelock falling across his eyes, “He feels safe with you.”

Keith swallows. “That’s, um. That really means a lot. Thank you. For telling me.”

“I mean, he did just crash in your arms. That’s pretty obvious trust right there.” Shiro grins before drinking more tea. “So. Since you’re the expert, anything I should know about Astermel?”

“Hmm.” Keith takes a long breath. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business, so I hope you like being the talk of the island for a while. Gossip is more valued than money around here.” He laughs lightly, even though it’s true. “Um, when a storm is coming in, the phones always go down. The coffee at Coran’s is much better than Iverson’s. Oh, and don’t believe what you hear about my parents’ wine.”

Shiro leans forward. “Okay, well, now you have to tell me.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Everyone says it makes people confess their feelings, but it’s just wine. It happens to be really good and so people drink too much, hence confessing. Anyway. I’m just warning you. Our wine doesn’t have any powers, so don’t believe the hype.”

“Duly noted.” 

The door slams and Kosmo jerks awake with a start. A deep baritone voice sings through the house, and Keith feels himself flushing. “That’s my dad. He’s kinda obsessed with sea shanties these days.” 

“Take with you me ring and me heart you’ll always bring, take with you--” Keith’s dad stops his song as he steps into the kitchen, his arms full with a crate of bottles. “Keith! I didn’t know we had company.” He sets down the crate on the counter. “Sorry for the musical entrance. I’m Tex Kogane.”

Shiro sticks out his hand, and Keith notices he shakes with his left. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kogane. I’m Shiro.”

“His grandparents bought the Alfor’s old place,” Keith adds, and Keith’s dad’s face lights up. 

“Honey!” he calls, waiting for a beat as Keith’s mom steps in, tote bags hanging from her shoulder. “Look! The Shirogane’s grandson is here.”

Krolia grins, setting down her things. “You must be Shiro! I feel like I know you already. Your grandparents have been going on about you. I talk to them at the farmer’s market every week. They’re darling.” She shakes Shiro’s hand. “Your grandmother and I were just saying the two of you should get together.”

Keith feels the flush creep up his neck. “Mom. We’re kind of old for a playdate.”

Shiro flashes Keith a quick grin. “I don’t mind. Would be nice to have a friend.” He stoops down to give Kosmo some head scritches. “Besides Kosmo, of course.”

“I--I, yeah.” Keith stutters. He meets Shiro’s gaze for a moment--his eyes are a stunning gray, like the sky after a storm, like the flash of a gull’s wing--and his stomach flips. His heartbeat accelerates fast enough that he feels lightheaded, and he’s grateful for the counter he’s leaning on for support. Shiro’s the most beautiful boy Keith’s ever seen.

“Can I help you bring in anything else?” Shiro asks, and both of Keith’s parents beam.

“This one,” Krolia says, “is welcome anytime.”

Keith follows the three of them out the door, making sure Kosmo is securely inside the house. He can't get Shiro's comment about the bees out of his head, leading to mental images of Shiro charming happy bees in a meadow and a desire to know what his honey might taste like.

++

Keith rubs the back of his wrist over his forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs. The fake coconut scent of sunscreen rises from his skin and he’s pretty sure he can smell his own deodorant. At least the leafy canopy above him helps break up some of the sunshine, giving him a little respite. He can smell the ocean from here and he wishes he was neck-deep in the surf right now, but that would have to wait until his chores were done.

Keith looks down at the clipboard in his hand, marking off rows of trellises as he goes. While he didn’t inherit his parents’ plant magic, he’s now sensitive enough to their spells that he can tell when sections of the vineyard need their magic refreshed. Even the two of them together aren’t powerful enough to do all of their land in one day, so it helps if he can identify the weaker patches so they can come out and make sure new spells are put in place. 

A fresh breeze passes through the row, shaking leaves and giving Keith a moment of respite. Being out here helps to clear his head. He’s been so worried about his upcoming apprenticeship with Ulaz that any excuse to get outside and work to distract himself has been welcome. 

Of course, that’s not the only thing on his mind. Shiro’s about to start his apprenticeship too, though, and while they’ve seen each other a few times in town and exchanged a few texts (mostly pictures of Kosmo and Shiro’s sheep), they haven’t really spent much time together. He’s not sure what Shiro expected when he said he wanted a friend, but Keith feels like a woefully inadequate one. 

He glances down and sees a patch of weeds coming up: a sure sign the magic’s faded. If he closes his eyes, he can even feel the way his skin feels different, how the light pressure that always accompanies their magic has lifted away. The air smells a little less fragrant, and the heat rises without the spell’s full protection. He checks off the row on his chart and moves on to the next one. 

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm as he goes. He learned how to look for signs of faded magic in the vineyard since he was little, and now that his magic’s manifested, it’s more obvious than before. Most of the spells are holding steady, but the ones along the edges of their property, or vines that are newer or weaker are more likely to lose power.

He turns down the next row when he hears it. The sound is a little strained, but it’s clearly an animal cry. A tiny one. Up ahead, he can see rustling in the leaves; there’s something caught in the trellis. His first thought is a bird, since sometimes one will get through a weak part of the barrier spell over the vineyard, but the cries sound different. He carefully brushes the leaves aside, revealing a very small, very angry black kitten.

“Oh,” he says softly, making quiet sounds to try to calm it. The kitten’s tangled in something; Keith can’t quite see what, but it might be fishing line or some kind of plastic thread. Whatever it is, it’s snagged in the trellis around its middle and back legs. “Shh, baby, you’re okay.” He ties back a few of the vines to get a better look, and instead of quieting, the kitten opens its mouth and hisses, fangs bared. 

“You are like three pounds, little thing, you think you’re gonna scare me?” Keith digs into his pockets and pulls out a pair of shears. Cargo shorts might not exactly be the height of fashion, but Keith doesn’t care. He’s got shit to carry. “Hold on. I’m gonna cut you free, all right?”

What seems like it should be an easy process turns out to be far more complicated when the kitten starts attacking his hands. “Shit!” he cries, pulling back a scratched palm. “I’m trying to help you, okay? I’m a friend. I’m your big friend, Keith. Just work with me here, all right?”  
The kitten, however, does not work with him. 

By the time it’s freed, Keith’s bleeding in more than one place, but even more concerning, whatever’s wrapped around the kitten’s middle appears to have cut into the skin, leaving red wounds. “No wonder you’re so upset. You’re hurt.” He grabs a bandana from his back pocket, trying to wrap up the kitten, and tucks it against his chest. The tiny thing lets out plaintive cries, one after the other, and Keith’s heart constricts. “Hold on. I think I know someone who can help.”

Carefully holding the kitten still, he pulls out his phone, quickly firing off a text. 

_Hey, you home?_

The response comes immediately. _Out at the hives, what’s up?_

_Found something I could use your help with. I’ll be right over._

He starts up a quick pace back through the rows towards the house, careful to keep the kitten secure inside the bandana. Its cries are less frequent, but if Keith tries to look inside, he’s met with angry hisses. “Shh, little bean. I’ve got you.” He keeps up his litany of soft words even as he drops his charts on the back porch and wrangles his bike one-handed towards the road. With the bottom of his t-shirt pulled up over the bandana, he’s got a pretty secure pouch to hold the kitten in, and if he pedals fast, he should be able to make it to the Shirogane farm in less than ten minutes. 

What’s normally an easy ride isn’t made easy by the kitten’s escape attempts, which result in a few more slashes across Keith’s skin. Despite its Houdini efforts, Keith manages to contain it, even while he’s swearing up a storm as he pedals down the road between their farms. Some of the Shirogane sheep stare at him as he bites back a howl of pain from yet another well-landed attack against his abdomen.

The road curves around the pastures towards the house, where it splits around a large garden and small pond. Up ahead, he can see a lone figure near the water, standing beside the hives.  
Keith pedals his way to the house, carefully depositing his bike outside before starting to walk towards Shiro. He can hear the sound of the bees, the quiet hum making Keith feel just a smidge anxious. Growing up in the vineyard, he’s always been used to insects flitting all over their acreage, but watching Shiro work with the hives’ lids off and no hat or veil makes him nervous. 

Keith stops on the opposite side of the pond, using one hand to hold tight to the kitten and the other to wave. Shiro lifts his prosthetic in greeting, but suddenly his expression changes to concern, and he puts the lids back on the hives, walking calmly away for about twenty-five feet before breaking into a run. 

Shiro, Keith realizes, looks great all the time, but seeing him sprint in Keith’s direction is a truly stunning sight.

“Keith!” Shiro skids to a halt in front of him, his expression stricken. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could help.” Keith holds his left hand firmly over his stomach, keeping the kitten in place. “I found this--”

“You’re bleeding!” Shiro reaches out, taking Keith’s right forearm. Shit. Keith forgot; the middle of his palm is stained red with blood. 

“Oh, it’s not about me.” Keith inclines his head towards the tiny bundle pressed against his belly. “I found this kitten, but it’s really pissed and--”

“A kitten did this to you?” Shiro’s tone is incredulous.

“It’s hurt and so scared, it’s not the kitten’s fault.” Keith glances at the house. “I’m afraid if I show it to you that it’ll try to run off. Do you have a place inside where you could look it over? It might need a vet or something, but I thought maybe you could calm it down, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro says, resting a warm hand on Keith’s shoulder as he gently leads him towards the house. “Right this way.”

Keith’s an only child and isn’t used to just running off at the mouth when he’s nervous, but there’s something about Shiro that makes it hard to stay quiet. “I’m, you know, sorry to just show up like this. I just wasn’t sure what else to do, and you were so good with Kosmo, I hope I’m not disturbing your, like, communion with the bees or whatever.”

“The bees,” Shiro says with a smile, “have all the time in the world.” He opens the door to a pretty screened-in porch, letting Keith in first. Cushioned teak chairs and a couch furnish the space, along with a table and chairs underneath a slowly spinning ceiling fan. Bauble lights string up along the large sections of screen, and Keith’s sure it’s a beautiful space at night. 

“Wow, this is really nice.” Keith suddenly feels like he might accidentally tread mud on the throw rugs or drip blood somewhere, and he’s careful to step on the stone floor instead. 

“It’s my Jiji’s project. He loves this room.” Shiro steps closer to Keith, tugging him towards the table. “Let’s see about this little one.”

“The door’s locked, right? It’s liable to just make a break for it as soon as I let it out.” Keith can feel the kitten squirming inside the fabric of his t-shirt.

“It’s all good,” Shiro says, his voice soft. “You can let her out.”

Hesitantly, Keith lifts the front of his shirt over the table, carefully depositing the bandana-wrapped kitten. “Be careful,” Keith whispers. “She’s pretty pissed.”

“You’re safe now,” Shiro says, reaching out his left hand towards the kitten. Instantly, her posture changes; her spine softens, and her tail goes from bottle-brush to smooth and calm. He lets her sniff his palm before he tries to touch her, and when his fingers brush over the kitten’s head, Keith hears a purr start rising up.

“What the fuck,” Keith says under his breath.

The kitten tries to clamber into Shiro’s open palm, struggling to move where the line’s wrapped around its middle. “We’ll get that sorted, don’t worry,” Shiro says, and wordlessly Keith hands him the safety shears from his shorts pocket. “Oh, perfect! Thanks.” 

Maybe it’s just the summer breeze filtering through the screens, or the wildflowers growing all around the pond, but a soft scent fills the porch. It reminds Keith of the way Astermel smells after a rain, the air rich with something fresh and new. After petting the kitten a few more times, she stills in Shiro’s hands as he cuts away the plastic line, freeing her back legs. She mews quietly, butting her head against Shiro’s metal palm. “Poor little thing. She was trapped overnight.” 

“She was tangled in the trellis.” Keith watches how easily she trusts Shiro, how quickly she warms to this touch. “Does she, like, can you see if she has a family?”

Shiro frowns, stroking lightly across her nose. “If she does, I’m not getting anything from her about it. All I’m sensing is how afraid she was. We need to get her some water and food. Luckily you found her in time or those wounds from the line could have been so much worse.” He runs his fingers over her side and stomach where red marks mar her dark fur. “They’re just superficial and she’ll heal up fast.”

Keith lets out a relieved breath. “I knew you’d know what to do.” He slumps into one of the open chairs around the table, wincing as the scratches across his stomach and chest burn with the movement.

Shiro scoops up the kitten, who’s still audibly purring, and squeezes Keith’s shoulder as he walks by. “I’m glad you brought her. Just relax, okay? I’ll be right back.”

The fan overhead sends a gentle breeze over Keith’s hair and he tips his head back, eyes closed. Now that he’s seated and the adrenaline rush is fading, he realizes how exhausted he is and how he definitely got some sunburn. It’s his own fault for not reapplying the sunscreen his mom slipped into his pocket this morning. He lets out a long breath. Maybe he can just rest here for a few minutes before he has to ride back home. The gentle whirr of the fan and the comfortable seat make it easy for him to slip into a light doze, and he startles when he hears his name. 

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Shiro looks sheepish as he sets down a glass of iced tea in front of Keith. “Here, you must be thirsty. My baba makes the best tea.”

Keith takes a long drink, nearly groaning with how good it tastes. “It’s delicious.” He finishes the glass, giving Shiro a smile. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to doze off.” He looks up, spying the kitten tucked along Shiro’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got a friend. How’s she doing?”

“Much better. Got her a bite to eat and some water. She’ll be fine.” Shiro settles the sleepy kitten on one of the couches, whispering quietly to her before returning to the table with a first aid kit. “Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

“Me?” Keith sputters a laugh, holding up his bloodied hand. “It’s a scratch.”

“You’re bleeding in at least six places, Keith.” Shiro tugs at Keith’s t-shirt. “Have you seen yourself?”

Keith glances down, shocked when he sees more blood on his shirt than he expected. Thin red streaks cross over his abdomen and chest, marking the gray fabric of his _Kogane Winery_ t-shirt. “Guess I was a little too focused on the rescue mission.”

“A battle-wounded hero.” Shiro’s smile makes Keith’s stomach flip. “Let me help you, yeah? Take your shirt off and I’ll get you bandaged up.”

The thought of taking off his shirt in front of Shiro, as gorgeous as he is, makes Keith’s mouth dry. “I don’t,” he says, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You’re not any trouble.” Shiro’s smile drops a little. “Oh. Is this rude of me? Since you’re a healer? Maybe you’re supposed to heal things yourself?”

“No,” Keith says, shaking his head, feeling a little embarrassed. “I mean, not yet. It sounds dumb, the healer who can’t heal himself, but, um, my power is so new that I can’t, I mean, healing myself isn’t possible yet.”

“I remember the early days for me,” Shiro says, opening the first aid kit. “I just got little snatches, little feelings. I thought I was dreaming at first. Now that I’m nine months in, it’s much more stable. I should have been apprenticed before now, but,” he shrugs, lifting his prosthetic. “I wanted to get this first. And, bonus, since I’ve spent so much time in hospitals, I can promise you I’m quite good with a first-aid kit.”

Keith bites his bottom lip. “You’re sure?”

“Very.” He bumps Keith’s knee. “Come on. Let me see how brave you were.”

A flush rises on Keith's cheeks as he pulls his shirt over his head with a groan. “I just did what anyone would.”

“Maybe people on Astermel are different from the ones I’ve known, but I think you’re underestimating your own kindness.” Shiro pulls his chair a bit closer to Keith's and then cleanses his hands with sanitizer. “Oof, she got you good.” He tears open an alcohol wipe and starts blotting at a scratch along the bottom of Keith’s ribcage. The sharp sting of the alcohol makes Keith wince. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Keith tries desperately to control his breathing, not wanting to look like an absolute fool in front of Shiro. He’s had some kind of major surgery and has a magetech prosthetic, and here Keith is making noises over some little cuts. And, on top of it all, Shiro’s gaze is so soft, and he’s wearing a white t-shirt that clings beautifully to his chest and biceps. He’s so stunning that it’s nearly impossible not to stare. He can feel his heart pounding and for a moment he’s terrified that Shiro will see it. 

“Keith.”

“Mmm?”

Shiro gives a quiet laugh. “You’re holding your breath.”

 _Fuck._ “I’m sorry.”

“Take a few deep breaths, yeah?” Shiro waits, watching Keith as he manages to get a few lungfuls of air. “There you go.” 

The faint scent from before rises again, the world-after-rain smell, and Keith purses his lips. “Is that your,” he stops as Shiro cleans a slightly deeper cut. “Is that your magic?”

“What?”

“That smell. It’s the way Astermel smells after a storm. I noticed it earlier when you were helping the kitten.” He tilts his head, suddenly aware that his heart’s not racing nearly as fast and his breath isn’t quite so shaky. “You’re not, like, your magic doesn’t work on people, does it?”

“Oh, my God.” Shiro bites his lip as he opens another alcohol wipe. “I was projecting to the kitten and seeing you in pain just kind of,” he stops, a blush making the scar over his nose more visible. “I promise I can’t get anything from you, not like thoughts, or feelings or anything! I just was trying to put out a calm vibe. That’s all I can do with people. I’m so sorry if I accidentally overstepped.”

“You didn’t.” Keith brushes his sweaty bangs from his forehead. He _does_ feel calmer, less like he’s going to jump out of his skin. “It’s sweet of you.” 

“It’s, um, not usually super effective on people unless they’re really sensitive.” Shiro presses a gauze pad against a scratch over Keith’s stomach that’s still bleeding a little, holding his hand there firmly to stop the flow. “You only manifested a couple weeks ago and you’re already that aware? You must be pretty powerful.”

“I don’t think it’s like that,” Keith mumbles. He breathes in, feeling Shiro’s hand rise with his stomach. “Your magic smells nice.”

“Yeah?” He uses a cotton ball to dab antibiotic ointment over Keith’s skin. “I can’t smell it myself, you know, so I was always afraid it might be, like, rotten eggs.”

“You?” Keith lets out a shaky laugh. “My mom always says magic is kinda like the person who’s using it, like a reflection, kind of. There’s no way yours could smell bad.”

“Are you complimenting me or did I accidentally relax you too much?” Shiro winks and Keith swallows as his heart rate suddenly spikes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be teasing you when you’re bleeding.” He applies a few band-aids to the deeper cuts on Keith’s torso, his movements gentle. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, you’re,” Keith says, embarrassed at how his breathing makes his chest shudder. “You’re very good at this.”

“Occupational hazard of being a sick kid. Lots of experience with band-aids.” 

Keith chews on his lip. “Oh.” He’s full of questions--he has been since he saw Shiro’s magetech arm holding Kosmo--but he’s afraid it’s rude to ask. It seems impossible that someone who’s as fit and healthy-looking as Shiro could be ill, but he knows looks can be deceiving. “I’m sorry. About you being sick.”

“Oh!” Shiro shakes his head. “I’m not sick anymore. Past tense.” 

A relieved sigh slips out of Keith’s mouth. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Don’t worry.” He grins. “I’ll be around to patch you up in the event of future feral kitten attacks.” 

Keith snorts, thoroughly embarrassed by the rush of color to his cheeks. “I knew she didn’t mean it. I just wanted to get her someplace safe.” 

“You did. And she’s grateful.” He reaches out and takes Keith’s forearm, turning over his palm, which is still sticky with blood. “This is the last one. Are you okay if I wrap this one with gauze? It’ll stay on better and keep it from reopening.”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Keith winces when Shiro cleans the wound, looking over Shiro’s shoulder to the hives in the distance. 

“How are the bees?”

Shiro sniffs, opening another alcohol wipe. “They’re, well, figuring out they’re under new management. I mean, they still have their queens, naturally, but I’m trying to give them a little more room to grow. And get in a few more plants they like.”

“I, um, saw you don’t wear, like, beekeeper clothes.”

“I did the first few days, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to make sure there was some level of trust.” He spreads medicine on Keith’s palm and then proceeds to start wrapping it. “I might have magic, but I’m not a total idiot.”

“So now you and the bees are, I guess, friends?”

Shiro purses his lips. “More like colleagues, or at least friendly acquaintances. We’ll get there. I’m working on the goats right now.” He smiles, taping up the bandage. “The sheep were a cinch.” He pats Keith’s shoulder. “I think you’re gonna live.” There’s an easy grace to Shiro’s movements as he rises to his feet, picking up Keith’s bloody shirt. “Let me put this in cold water for now and I’ll get one for you to borrow.”

“What? No, it’s okay if--”

“Your mom will freak if you come home looking like this.” Shiro holds up the red-streaked top. “If she’s anything like my Baba.”

“Good point.” 

Shiro disappears for a minute and returns with a black t-shirt. “Here you go. Hopefully it’s not too big.” He holds it out, helping Keith slip it over his head. The shirt’s large enough that the neck hangs loose around Keith’s collarbone, but Keith just smiles and tucks a handful of fabric in over his left hip. 

“It’s perfect. Thanks.” He holds up his bandaged hand. “And, um, thanks for the first aid. I probably would have gone through, like, an entire box of band-aids trying to do it myself.”

“Sometimes the healer needs a healer, yeah?” 

Keith snorts. “Well, the one who manifested like ten minutes ago definitely does.”

Shiro crosses over to the couch and scoops up the kitten, who’s nearly boneless as she dozes in Shiro’s arms. “Oh! Keith, look, I forgot to show you.” He lifts up the kitten’s tiny chin, tipping her head up. “She was a little dirty so I got off the worst of the grime while I was in the kitchen and check it out! She’s got a tiny white spot on her head, just like me!” He points to his forelock, and there’s no denying the similarity between them. “Twins!”

“Oh, my God, that’s too much. You _are_ twins.” Even though the kitten made him bleed, when she’s asleep in Shiro’s arms, Keith has to admit she’s adorable. “What are you going to do with her?”

“I figure, she’s new to Astermel and so am I, so maybe we should stick together. What’s one more animal on a farm?” Shiro kisses her white blaze. “Her name’s Black and this is her home.”

“Wait, she told you her name?”

Shiro laughs. “I mean, not exactly? But it’s as close as I can figure out.”

Keith leans a little closer to the kitten. “Well, Black, I hope you like your new life with Shiro. And I hope that next time you’ll like me a bit more.”

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Shiro says, patting him on the back. “And I know she had a bad day, but I’m pretty sure the next time you meet she’ll be in a better mood.”

“If you can charm bees, I’m sure you’ll work your magic with her.” Keith heads towards the door, not wanting to overstay his welcome even as he feels a tug in his stomach to stay. “I’d better get back. Thanks again for the help.”

“You sure you don’t want a ride back? I could get the truck out.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” He heads outside, giving Shiro a wave before he picks up his bike.

The cuts, he decides, are well worth the series of selfies he gets from Shiro that night of him and Black. Just to be neighborly, he sends one back, him and Kosmo curled up in bed.


	2. Fall

**FALL**

Shouldering his backpack, Keith trudges out of Ulaz’s cottage, groaning as he picks up his bike from where he left it next to the herb garden beside the porch. He climbs on, taking a deep breath against the weariness in his head. He’s not used to using so much magic yet, and while Ulaz is an excellent teacher, he’s the most demanding person Keith’s ever met. After the day Keith’s had, the prospect of biking up Smythe Hill is a welcome thought, but only because it means he can leave. 

He unties his flannel from around his waist and slips it on. The weather’s starting to turn and while the sun hasn’t set yet, the nip in the air is making him crave a little of his parents’ famous mulled wine. He starts pedaling, relishing the fresh air in his face and the warm pump of blood in his veins as he goes. After spending the day inside trying to instill magic into tiny bottles of potion and nearly giving himself a migraine, he’s glad he has an errand to run before he gets home and has to start studying for tomorrow. 

He chooses the long way to get to the Holt’s, taking the road by the ocean and listening to the seabirds call before they find their sheltering places for the night. Everyone talked about how busy the apprenticeship year was, but Keith’s been in his for less than two months and he’s exhausted. The only time he gets outside is if he gets up extra early to run or bike with Kosmo, and then it’s a day full of training, followed by his assignments at night. His mom even started making coffee in the morning, though they’ve always been a tea kind of house, claiming that she’s survived on it when she was an apprentice.

When he comes around the curve on the road up to the Holt’s house, he spies a black truck--not quite an antique but still lovingly kept--and Keith’s heart starts beating faster. 

Shiro.

He taps at the kickstand and heads up to the porch, which is littered with Matt and Pidge’s most recent projects in various states of disrepair. Inexplicably, a computer tower sits next to a bowl of potatoes on the table, and three of their cats sleep curled together on the swing. He raps on the open door twice before going in. “Hey! It’s Keith.”

Pidge is standing over the kitchen table, which is covered in newspaper to protect it from some type of machinery that’s leaking steam. Her glasses are smudged and a black stain goes across the front of her hoodie. “Perfect. You’re just in time to hold this for me.” She extends a tool that looks like a cross between a wrench and a saw.

“Sorry, P. I’m here to pick up that project your mom was working on for my mom, some kind of new filtration system, I think?” Keith takes off his backpack, leaving it well out of reach of Pidge’s mess. 

“Mom’s on a conference call. She’ll be done in like, fifteen or twenty?” Pidge gives him a grin. “You sure you don’t have time to help?”

“I, um, saw Shiro’s truck outside.” He tries to keep his tone level. Pidge is a huge gossip and a snoop, and he doesn’t trust himself to not say something stupid. Like the fact he had a dream about Shiro last night, or that the thing he looks forward to most now are the short string of texts they send at the end of the day to cheer the other on. “Is everything okay?”

Pidge grunts, getting back to her machine, which seems to be spitting out more steam than before. “They’re working on his arm. Dad and Matt.” She tilts her head towards the back of the house. “You can go back if you want. I don’t think they’d care.”

“Thanks, P.” Keith keeps his steps measured as he crosses the kitchen and heads back into the Holt’s offices. Their sprawling house is a warren of rooms, workshops, and even an exam room for patients like Shiro who have magetech. Most of the time growing up, he and Matt would goof around in the workshops, but as he heads down the hall, he can already see lights on in the exam room up ahead. 

For a moment he hesitates. He and Shiro text almost every day, but they haven’t seen each other in weeks. Maybe he wouldn’t want Keith to just pop in unexpectedly when they’re working on his arm. He bounces on the toes of his sneakers, trying to decide what to do, when Matt pops out of the room. “Keith!” Matt brightens. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to grab a thing for my mom...some project your mom’s been working on for her.” He points at the wall awkwardly towards Colleen’s office. “I saw Shiro’s here. Pidge said it was okay that I came back here, but--”

Matt claps him on the shoulder. “No worries, dude.” He sticks his head back in the room and calls, “Shiro, Keith’s here, you cool if he comes in?”

Keith can’t hear what Shiro says back, but Matt nods. “Head on in. I just need to grab a few things. Dad’s in the workroom still, he hasn’t gotten started yet so you’re good.”

As he walks into the exam room, Keith’s stomach twists, his breath rising with his nerves. The space is the opposite of the rest of the Holt house: spotless, clinical, and bright enough that Keith’s eyes blink. In the center of the room, there’s a padded reclining chair next to trays of metal equipment, and in that chair, looking pale, is Shiro. 

“Hey,” Keith says, lifting a hand into a half-wave. “You okay?”

Shiro looks tired, but whether it’s from his apprenticeship or from something with his arm, Keith doesn’t know. He’s wearing only a tank top and jeans, giving Keith full view of his magetech prosthetic, which starts midway up his right bicep. Instead of being lit up along the sides, it’s dim and still. Despite the smudges under his eyes and the pallor of his skin, the smile he gives Keith is as bright as ever. “Better for seeing you,” Shiro says. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking up a thing for mom.” Keith steps closer. “I saw your truck. Got worried, you know?”

“It’s not a big thing,” Shiro says, his mouth tight. “I’ve been having a little trouble, just like maintenance, but today I was helping with a difficult birth at the barn and my arm just shut off and I couldn’t get it back online.” He flexes his left hand, and then starts petting Black, who’s curled quietly in his lap. “I know she’s not supposed to be in here, but Mr. Holt made an exception. We’re both a little calmer when we’re together, you know?”

“Yeah, of course.” Keith rubs his forearm, stomach tight. Shiro’s far from naked, but there’s something so vulnerable seeing him like this that he has a hard time meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I’m so sorry about your arm. It must be scary.”

Shiro exhales. “I’m just really hoping the Holts can figure out what’s going on.” He swallows, biting on his bottom lip. “If they can’t,” he says, and then stops.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. They’ve helped so many people on Astermel.” Keith moves a little closer and Black lifts her head, sniffing.

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, a little smile forming on his lips. “She remembers you.”

Keith extends his fingers slowly. She tilts her tiny head before bumping her forehead against his palm, her fur soft and warm. “Is she purring?” 

“Yeah. She’s the sweetest thing.” Shiro scratches under her chin with his left hand. “I owe you big time for bringing her to me.”

“Seeing you two happy together is all the thanks I need.” Black nuzzles against Keith’s hand one more time before settling herself back in Shiro’s lap. 

Matt comes in with a metal crate loaded with supplies, letting out a grunt as he sets it down. “Dad’s right behind me. We should be able to get started in a minute. Sorry to keep you waiting, man.”

“I’m just glad you could see me today. I appreciate it,” Shiro says. He readjusts himself in the chair, but nerves come through in the regular, slight bounce of his right knee. Mr. Holt arrives with more instruments and he and Matt bring up some schematics on a widescreen nearby. 

“If they’re gonna start, I guess, um, I should probably go,” Keith says. Even though leaving Shiro alone is the last thing he wants to do, he doesn’t want to insert himself in a private moment. 

Shiro’s eyes lock with Keith’s and he shakes his head faintly. His voice is quiet, plaintive. “Please, stay.”

Keith nods. “If you want me to, I will.” 

Mr. Holt moves to stand by the table where Shiro’s right arm rests and glances at Keith. “You’re sure you want him here?”

“I do. If that’s okay.” 

“If it’s what you want, that’s fine.” He points at an open spot on Shiro’s left side, out of the way of equipment and the trays Matt’s adjusting. “Keith, do me a favor and come stand over here, would you?” 

Keith does as he’s asked, feeling suddenly nervous. He’s not squeamish about a lot of things, but he knows Shiro’s hurting and he hopes he can be calm for Shiro. The adrenaline makes him feel a little flushed and he takes off his flannel, tying it around his waist. 

They hit a lever by the side of the chair and recline Shiro back a bit further, which prompts Black to climb up and tuck herself between Shiro’s left shoulder and his neck. Mr. Holt clears his throat. “I know we talked about this on the phone, Shiro, but just to remind you, unfortunately I’m not going to be able to give you an anesthetic while we work today.”

Shiro nods. “I understand.”

Keith blanches. “Are you serious? Why not?”

“It’s the one kind of a downside to magetech,” Matt explains. “Pain meds fuck with the magic connections to the nerves, and--” 

Mr. Holt breaks in. “Matthew, language.”

“Sorry.” Matt types on a laptop while he talks. “For this kind of repair, we can’t give meds ahead of time. If you’re still hurting afterwards, we can, though.”

Mr. Holt opens up the top panel on Shiro’s prosthetic. “This could be a little uncomfortable. I promise I’ll work as efficiently as I can. If you need to take a break, let me know.”

Shiro nods, his lips pressed in a tight line. 

“All right. We’ll get started.” 

As Mr. Holt and Matt confer for a moment, Keith leans a little closer to Shiro. “It’s cool if you don’t need it, but you should know that one of my family’s genetic traits is that you can squeeze our hands really hard and it doesn’t hurt us. So.” He holds out his hand. “I promise you can’t crush it.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “You’re sure?” He flexes his flesh fingers.

“Totally.” Shiro’s hand slides into Keith’s, his skin colder than Keith’s expecting. The room doesn’t seem cool, but Shiro’s wearing less clothing to give them room to work. “You sure you’re warm enough? Do you need a blanket? I can get you a blanket.”

“No, I’m--” Shiro’s jaw clenches as Mr. Holt opens up a panel on Shiro’s arm. “I’m okay.”

Matt cleans the skin around Shiro’s prosthetic with alcohol wipes. “We’re getting started. Try not to move, Shiro, okay?”

Shiro breathes out through his nose. “I know the drill, yeah.” He glances over at Keith, a crooked smile on his face. “Sorry, that was a little magetech pun. You know. Because of the,” he tilts his head towards the scary-looking tool Mr. Holt’s using on his arm. He squeezes Keith’s hand as he winces a little. “I, um, like puns. I try to think of them when,” he says, swallowing hard, “it hurts.”

Keith squeezes back, wrapping his other hand around Shiro’s wrist and holding tight. “Puns, huh?” He wracks his brain, trying to think of one stupid phrase that might bring this beautiful boy a bit of comfort. Under Keith’s fingertips, he feels the rapid drumming of Shiro’s pulse. He’s so brave, but he’s scared and he’s hurting, and his heartbeat tells Keith everything he needs to know. 

“Hey Shiro,” he says, “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

Shiro’s hand grips tighter as his jaw muscles work under the skin. “I, ah, don’t know.”

“Nothing, it just let out a little wine.”

A shaky laugh escapes out of Shiro’s mouth. “That’s good. Real good.”

Keith suddenly tastes metal on his tongue, a bitter flavor like aluminum or copper. It lingers the way toothpaste does, filling his mouth. It takes him a few moments before he realizes it’s coming from the magetech magic. When he glances towards Mr. Holt, he can see his hands hovering above Shiro’s prosthetic, his eyes shut and his expression tight. 

The metal taste grows until it’s nearly overwhelming, like he’s got a mouthful of pennies. Keith takes a breath, trying to remember his recent lessons with Ulaz. Healers have to be able to compartmentalize. Ulaz usually makes him put a hand over his stomach to make sure he’s breathing deeply enough to expand his belly, but Keith’s hands are otherwise occupied holding Shiro’s and feeling his quickening pulse. Instead, he focuses on what he can feel, the texture of Shiro’s palm, the tap of Shiro’s blood in his wrist.

“You, uh, know if a guy can’t appreciate your fruit puns,” Shiro says, his voice shaky, “you need to let that mango.”

Keith snorts. “You’re way too good with those.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to--” Shiro’s hand grows impossibly tighter around Keith’s. “Shit,” he whispers. 

“Just hang on. You’re doing great,” Keith says, pitching his voice for Shiro. The metal taste is receding and Keith feels a surge of pride. He’s actually doing what Ulaz trained him to do, to not be overwhelmed by others’ magic, to focus on Shiro and what he needs. For the first time in weeks, he’s starting to feel like maybe he’s not going to be a total mess as a healer. 

He’s watching Shiro’s face, turned away from Mr. Holt and Matt’s ministrations, when suddenly Keith feels a distant press of pain along his forearm, and bile rises in his throat. 

It’s just like the first time this happened.

It was three days before his birthday, and a storm had swept through the vineyard. Despite his parents’ spells and wards, some of the trellises had come down. Keith and his father worked to get them standing again, while his mother followed behind, coaxing the broken vines back to life, strengthening the ones that had collapsed under the weight of rain and wind. It took an entire day to make their way through the damage and when they arrived back at the house, all three of them were filthy and exhausted. 

His dad groaned when he collapsed into a kitchen chair, rubbing his shoulder, and Keith came alongside him, touching his father’s arm. Before Keith could ask him if he was all right, a dull wave of pain rolled over Keith’s neck and down his shoulder. It was so unexpected, so overwhelming, that Keith went lightheaded. His mom caught him before he hit the floor, her hand smoothing over Keith’s forehead. It was the moment Keith’s magic manifested and he’d never before felt so weak, so out of control. 

His knees don’t buckle and for that, he’s grateful. This time, the pain--Shiro’s pain--doesn’t actually run through him. What he feels is more like pressure, a dull point, like someone pressing a spoon hard against his forearm. 

“You okay?” Shiro asks, giving their joined hands a little shake. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Keith says automatically.

“I should have thought about that,” Matt says, his hands busy holding long, metal tools for his father. “Keith, are you getting feedback?”

“Nothing bad, I promise.” Keith feels his face flushing. He doesn’t want the attention on him. “Focus on Shiro.”

“Wait, what?” Shiro tries to pull his hand away, but Keith won’t let him. “You can feel what I’m feeling too?”

“No, I can’t,” Keith says. He breathes through his nose, trying to steady himself. “I can’t feel your pain. But I know where you hurt. It’s different.”

“It doesn’t hurt you?” Shiro pulse speeds against Keith’s fingers. 

“No. I’m okay.”

“If Keith’s getting some feedback, Dad, couldn’t he help us?” Matt asks.

“The best help Keith can give is what he’s already doing, which is keeping Shiro calm.” Mr. Holt looks back at the schematics, and then returns to the inner workings of Shiro’s prosthetic. “Combining magic efforts isn’t for apprentices.”

Keith heaves a sigh of relief. He and Ulaz are just beginning to work on understanding how his healing magic’s sensory capabilities work, and the last thing Keith would want to do is make a fool of himself in front of Shiro while potentially causing him more pain. “Tell me about Ryder,” Keith says, aware of the warmth between their palms, of Shiro’s increased hold when the magetech magic starts up from Mr. Holt again. “Your apprenticeship.”

There’s sweat on Shiro’s temples. “She,” he blinks up at Keith. “She thinks I won the bees over. We won’t know for sure,” he says, breath sharp, “until spring.”

“I’m sure you did.” As Keith speaks, Shiro trembles a little, glancing over Keith’s shoulder at what the Holts are doing. Keith tastes metal in his mouth again. “Shiro, hey. Don’t look at them.” He squeezes Shiro’s hand. “Look at me.”

Shiro does, and the weight of his gaze sends heat through Keith’s veins. “Talk to me,” Shiro says softly. “About anything. Distract me.” He flinches. “Please?”

“I, um,” Keith stammers, suddenly at a loss for words. “Okay. Anything. Yeah. Um, I’m turning this little cottage on our property into a workshop. It’s kind of a disaster right now, it’s full of old equipment and cobwebs so big that I’m pretty sure there’s got to be spiders living in there bigger than Kosmo, you know? But I thought that maybe it might help to have a place where I work and kinda, just, focus.” 

Shiro’s pulse is beating a little slower now and his eyes don’t leave Keith’s. “A cottage.”

“It’s more like a shed.” He can hear Matt and Mr. Holt talking behind him, and he leans in just a little closer. “But I’m gonna put a little cot in there so I can stay up late if I need to. And some speakers for music.”

Keith can hear Black purring, and Shiro tilts his head to nudge against her. “What kind of music?”

“Indie stuff, mostly.” Keith’s not sure why this feels like a confession, but he realizes they’ve never talked about music. They’ve mainly talked about magic, or their pets, or their mentors. 

“You play guitar.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “I mean. I mess around.”

“I can feel your calluses.” Shiro smiles, and the way his lip curves makes Keith’s heart speed up. “I used to play. Before,” he lifts his chin in the direction of where the Holts are working. 

“Were you good?”

Before Shiro can answer, Matt gives a whoop. “Son, you’re gonna scare your clients if you yell like that,” Mr. Holt says, sighing. “Shiro, can you move your fingers for us?”

Keith steps out of the way, still holding Shiro’s other hand. He bites his lip, looking over at his arm as he tentatively flexes his metal hand. “Is it okay?”

“There was a small but important connection that needed a bit more magical support. I’m sorry it took us so long to find it.” Mr. Holt puts Shiro through a series of different tests, making sure he has full range of motion. “Any pain?”

Shiro holds up his prosthetic, taking a deep breath. “You found it. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s better than when I left the hospital.” Relief floods his features. “Thank you.”

Mr. Holt puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Magetech should never hurt, not when it’s properly aligned. If anything changes, you call here right away.” He turns over to Matt. “What does Shiro need to know?”

Matt pushes up his glasses, smearing a bit of grease on them. “So the magetech connects to your magic, as you probably already know, but you’ll probably not want to try to do much with your magic for a day or two. Sometimes you’ll feel referred pain in your shoulder or in your back, even though your arm’s okay. We, uh, have pain meds we can give you if you want them. But you may experience dizziness, light nausea, and, um,” he stops, looking at his father. “I forget the third thing.”

“Sedation. You might feel tired, or have trouble staying awake.” Mr. Holt gathers up some paperwork and puts it in a folder. “I’ve got notes on everything here for you to take with you. And I want to see you next week to make sure everything stays as it should.” 

Keith lets go of Shiro’s hand reluctantly as he tries to get up, but Shiro wobbles and he catches him, leaning his weight under Shiro’s shoulder. “Hey, go slow. You’re all right.” Keith puts a steadying hand over Shiro’s stomach and the feeling of the muscles under his palm makes him flush. “You shouldn’t drive.”

Matt snorts. “He should _definitely_ not drive.” 

“I’m fine,” Shiro says. “Better than fine. I’m--” He tries to step forward and Keith lurches with him, steadying him when his knees buckle. Black scrambles up on Keith’s shoulder, her nails digging through Keith’s shirt.

“Okay, you’re freaking Black out. Stick with me, okay? We’re walking to the truck and I’m taking you home.”

Shiro complies and they make their way out of the Holts’ house. Apparently magetech use makes Shiro extremely effusive and it takes Keith three tries to get him into the truck. It’s not like he’s drunk or even medicated, but he’s definitely a bit chatty and woozy. 

Once Shiro’s secure, he throws his bike in the back of the truck, along with the machine Collen made for his mom. When he climbs into the front seat and asks for the keys, Shiro has trouble fishing them out of his pocket and Keith has to go after them instead. Sticking his hand down the back pocket of Shiro’s jeans gives him a quick feel of Shiro’s firm ass, which makes him flush all over again. He starts up the truck and flicks on the headlights, hoping Shiro hasn’t seen his blush . It’s nearly dark, but the sky still holds a bit of golden pink before the sun sets. 

“It’s pretty here,” Shiro says, his head tipped back against the headrest.

It’s prettier now that you live here, Keith thinks. Instead, he says, “Yeah.” 

Shiro gives a soft laugh. “I meant to tell you this thing about Ryder. She’s got me working with a cranky bull at the McClain’s. It hates everyone. Even me, most days. I haven’t been able to get near it yet. It’s like the first animal I’ve never been able to work any magic on. Everyone says it’s really ugly but, I think…” Shiro pauses, a mischievous grin on his lips, and Keith realizes he’s waiting for Keith.

“But you think...it’s adora- _bull_?” Keith supplies.

“Hell yes!” Shiro snickers, the sound way more charming than it has any right to be. “Good job.” He lets out a slow breath. “You know, I can’t believe you showed up today,” Shiro says as he pets Black, who’s curled in his lap. “When Matt said you were right outside, I thought I was dreaming.” Black’s purring loud enough for Keith to hear and the sound soothes his nerves. “You really helped me.”

Keith comes to a fork in the road and he turns left. It’s the long way back to Shiro’s house, all winding roads and tree-covered paths, but he’s not ready for their conversation to end. “I wish I could have helped more. All I could do was hold your hand.” He flexes his fingers, still feeling the ghost of Shiro’s palm against his. You sure you’re not in any pain?” Keith asks. “There’s some elixir in the bag, if you are.”

“Not pain,” Shiro says, reaching out to turn on the radio. “Feel kinda weird, like kinda drained, but I’m okay.” He switches stations. “I’m not super used to that. People asking. People sticking around. People--” He gasps. “Oh, my God. This song.” He turns up the volume, humming along.

“I love this one,” Keith says, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. 

Shiro flashes him a grin. “You play acoustic or electric?”

“Is it too cliche if I say acoustic?”

“Nothing about you is cliche, Keith.” Shiro suddenly shivers, pulling his unzipped hoodie more tightly around himself. 

“Oh, shit. You’re cold. My bad.” Keith kicks up the heat, but the fan only sputters. 

“I should have mentioned the heat’s broken. Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’m a big boy, I won’t freeze to death.”

Keith’s heart trips over itself as he reaches out his right hand, rubbing his thumb over Shiro’s knuckles. “You were really brave today.”

“Thank you.” Shiro doesn’t pull away; instead, he slides his fingers through Keith’s, folding them together. 

They drive on through the dusk, golden leaves blowing across the hood of the truck as they cross over a small creek on their way up to the road that leads to Shiro’s farm. Keith can barely breathe; his senses are too wrapped up in feeling Shiro’s fingertips and the low thrum of the indie rock on the tinny speakers. 

“One thing you need to know,” Shiro says, his tone serious.

Here it comes, Keith thinks. There’s someone else. Or maybe he’s been reading into this. Or maybe he’s not attracted to Keith. Maybe they’re just holding hands like friends. Sometimes friends do.

“Okay,” Keith manages, trying not to choke.

“You might as well call your house now. Baba and Jiji aren’t going to let you leave without giving you dinner. I just needed to warn you. They’re pretty obsessive when it comes to feeding people,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith’s hand. 

“I,” Keith swallows. “Like food.”

“Cool. Me too.”

As Keith gets out of the truck, the autumn sky over Astermel is cloudless, already studded with brightening stars, and Keith swears he’s never seen so many before.


	3. Winter

**WINTER**

Keith picks up his phone, letting out a breath when his text goes unanswered. _I miss you_ was the last thing he’d said. He wonders if maybe that was a little too much, but there’s no way to take it back now. 

He tries to console himself with the thought that it’s late, past when Shiro usually goes to bed. It’s a little strange when his screen goes quiet; it feels like Keith’s suddenly alone in his cottage, even though he has been all night, except for Kosmo’s constant presence, snuffling under Keith’s workbench as he dreams his canine dreams. 

The texts were the first thing that changed. 

There were more of them, longer chains of deepening complexity over music and books, blended with pictures of Black and Kosmo. And then, a few weeks after Shiro’s arm was repaired by the Holt’s, the selfies started happening more often. Shiro with an arm around a goat, both of them with their tongues sticking out. Shiro holding a handful of baby chicks, a few bits of straw in his hair. Shiro with Black curled up in bed. And then, Shiro, an early morning selfie, just his sleepy face. 

Keith hadn’t realized until that moment that he always wanted to know what Shiro looked like when he woke up. In fact, there was no version of Shiro that Keith _wasn’t_ interested in seeing. Later that day, after he finished with Ulaz, Keith snuck his guitar into the cottage and played a little for Shiro, recording it and sending him the file. Shiro sends it back, this time with his sweet tenor singing back the words. Keith has to go stand outside in the snow, until his ears tingle from the cold to fight back the rush of heat. 

The days get colder and shorter, but their conversations only get longer, and if the way Keith’s heart speeds up at Shiro’s words is any indication, they get more intimate, too. But apprenticeship year is meant to be all-encompassing, giving them very little time to actually see each other. Ulaz has already warned him twice about not keeping up with work since the weather changed, and Keith’s not about to falter; he’s halfway through and if he doesn’t pass, he’ll have to repeat his apprenticeship. The thought of having to do all of this again is enough to make Keith put down his phone and stay focused. When this is all over, he and Shiro will have more time to figure out whatever the hell is going on with them. 

Keith’s parents are plant mages. If they’ve taught him anything, it’s the patience to let things grow in their own time. 

He puts on some music, trying to fight his own exhaustion, and gulps at the coffee on his workbench that’s gone cold. He shouldn’t have skipped dinner, but he’s been trying to memorize exactly how to imbue an elixir with the power to eliminate a headache for hours and his only accomplishment has been giving himself one. It’s been days since he got more than four hours’ sleep. Dragging his hand down his face, he wonders how long it’ll take Ulaz to comment on the shadows underneath his eyes. The man insists on recommending good self-care habits and yet piles on more reading in a night than Keith can read in a week. 

He blinks his way through another chapter on disorders of the digestive tract and debates texting Shiro about how stupidly funny it is that reading about stomachs is making him hungry, but he doesn’t want to bother Shiro’s sleep. Swaying a little on his feet, he knocks over half a bottle of dried yarrow, and swears while he puts the remaining herb in brandy and hopes maybe it’ll still somehow make a decent tincture. He leans over his workbench, hunched over his mortar and pestle, and heaves a breath that feels dangerously like a sob. 

Kosmo lifts his head and sniffs. Keith bends down and scratches the fur around his ears. “It’s okay, buddy. Go back to sleep.” Instead, Kosmo snorts, his head turned towards the door to the cottage. “It’s just the wind. It’s snowing out there.”

His once-tiny puppy, now a shaggy, 80-pound dog of questionable lineage that might have included wolf a few branches back on his family tree, gives a short bark. “What’s up with you, bud?”

A thumping sound startles Keith further. Maybe it’s his mom, bringing him some food? Sometimes she does that, even when Keith insists he’s got everything covered. It’s pretty late for her to come by, though. Kosmo bolts upright, tail wagging, tongue lolling as he prances to the door just as a couple of quick knocks sound through the wood.

“Coming,” Keith says, sliding the bolt and opening the door. There, on the other side of the door, standing in at least a foot of snow, is Shiro. 

He tugs down his scarf and grins as snow falls from his hair. Crystals on his eyelashes catch the light before he blinks and they disappear. “I missed you, too.” 

“You...you’re here,” Keith stammers, waving Shiro inside and shutting the door to bar the wind. “What’re you doing? It’s a blizzard out there!”

Shiro delicately scoops Black out of his pocket, giving her a quick pet before letting her drop gracefully to the floor, where she immediately nuzzles up against Kosmo. “You just sounded lonely, and I haven’t seen you for weeks,” he says, tugging off his coat and hanging it by the door as he steps out of his wet boots. “And I just couldn’t wait another day to--”

“Shiro.” Keith steps inside his open arms, squeezing around his ribs, burying his face against Shiro’s cable-knit sweater. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help but lean against Shiro’s frame, trying not to sway with relief. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, one hand pressing against Keith’s spine and the other softly cradling the back of his head. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Just a lot. You know.” Keith knows the hug should end, he should pull away, but he can’t seem to let go. “There’s just so much to learn, and I think Ulaz is starting to think he should have chosen a different apprentice and my head is killing me and…” Keith trails off, afraid that if he keeps talking, he’ll start crying, and once he starts crying, he might not stop. 

“I think you’ve had a really long day,” Shiro says. Even though it’s snowing outside, Keith suddenly gets the scent of Astermel-after-rain, and he realizes it’s Shiro’s magic. He presses into the juncture of Shiro’s neck and shoulder, breathing it in as he closes his eyes. 

“You trying to calm me down?” Keith asks.

“Is it working?”

Keith’s gotten a lot of hugs in his life, but the one he’s getting right now might be the best one he’s ever received. It’s the right combination of sturdy and soft, warm and tight. He doesn’t feel relaxed or calm, exactly; but there is something sinking into his skin that’s starting to feel less like panic and more like safety. “Not sure if it’s the magic or just you, but,” Keith’s breath catches. “It’s helping.”

“Good.” Shiro gently tips up Keith’s chin, brushing the hair back from his forehead. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um.” Keith tries to remember. “I think maybe at noon?”

“That was ten hours ago.”

There’s nothing accusatory in Shiro’s tone, but Keith feels a bit sheepish all the same. “Right.”

“Come on. Follow me.” Shiro releases him from the hug and grabs a bag from the floor. “I brought you something to eat.” 

He glances down at Shiro’s pants, which he realizes are plaid flannel. “Are you in your pajamas?” Suddenly he gets a mental image of Shiro dashing towards his truck, as if he left in a hurry.

“I mean, mostly. I put the sweater on top since it was freezing. I just got a feeling that you needed me, so...you know. I followed it.” He settles Keith into a chair at the tiny table against the far stone wall, his towering height brushing against the herbs drying along the ceiling. “I made you some chamomile tea, too. Baba swears by it.”

“You brought me food?” Keith stares as Shiro starts pulling out a silver thermos of tea, another one of soup, a few slices of sourdough bread and what smells like ginger spice cookies. “This is like an entire feast. You did all this yourself?”

“Well, me and Jiji. As soon as he heard I was heading to you, he added a few things.” Shiro slides into the chair across from Keith, his black and white forelock tipping over his forehead. “He knows how special you are.”

Keith shoves a hunk of bread into his mouth so he won’t have to respond. It’s still warm, and it’s got a hint of rosemary and sage. “Oh, my God.” He covers his mouth, trying not to talk while he chews. “This is so good.”

“Try it with the soup. They’re really good together.” Shiro pushes the thermos towards Keith. 

“What about you? Don’t you want some?” Keith breathes in the steam. It’s a hearty vegetable soup, aromatic with spices. 

“Oh, believe me,” Shiro says, hand over his stomach, “I had my fill. Just eat. And don’t forget the tea.”

While Keith tucks into more bread and soup, Shiro tells him about his day, about the peacocks from a farm on the other side of the island that had gone missing, and that he managed to track down. “You know what a group of peacocks is called? An ostentation. I feel like people who think they own peacocks are a bit ostentatious, too. I mean, you don’t _own_ those birds. They do what they want. I barely convinced them to come back and I’m sure they’ll be back out again tomorrow.” 

Keith downs a long drink of chamomile and honey. “Even in this _fowl_ weather?”

Shiro stares at him a second and then laughs, his grin infectious. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” Keith reaches out and touches Shiro’s magetech wrist before he grabs more bread. “How’s your arm doing?”

“You were right about the Holts. I’ve never felt better, to be honest. They’ve done a great job.” He launches into a story about how Pidge and Matt volunteered to fix the heating in the truck and managed to do it, but now the headlights only work when the heat’s on. Keith lets himself drift on the sound of Shiro’s voice, his belly filling with soup and bread and tea. When he’s finally done, he opens up the lid on the container of cookies. 

“You have to share these, at least,” Keith says, taking a bite. “Holy shit, did you make them?”

A blush rises on the scar over Shiro’s nose. “Yeah, I did. Jiji did the soup and the bread. I can’t take credit for those.”

“They’re so soft and the spice in them,” Keith groans. “You’re so talented. These are phenomenal.” He shoves another in his mouth, holding out the container until finally Shiro takes one. 

“It’s good to see you resting for once.” Shiro’s gaze is soft. “I worry about you.”

“Me?” Keith scoffs. “I’m fine.” He nods to the stack of medical books on his workbench. “I mean, I only have to memorize a million body parts and systems, and then how to make the proper elixirs that will heal what’s wrong with them. And, you know, also learn how to use my magic to heal without elixirs, just for extra fun.” He freezes. “Sorry. I make it sound like you don’t have to memorize the entire animal kingdom and learn how to communicate with them all.”

“Not _every_ animal. I think they leave out invertebrates. And mosquitoes. Because fuck them, really.” Shiro reaches across the table, smoothing his thumb over Keith’s knuckles. “It’s okay for it to be too much sometimes. I promise I won’t tell Ulaz.”

“Oh, believe me, Ulaz knows.” Keith swallows hard, eyes prickling. “I can’t hide shit from him.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day, though. Or week. Or month.”

Shiro’s voice is so kind and the press of his fingers are so gentle that, to his horror, a tear rolls down Keith’s cheek, and another. He wipes at them roughly with his free hand, shaking his head. Crying in front of Shiro is ridiculous. It’s not because he has some warped idea about crying--his dad cries all the time and he knows tears are healthy--but Shiro’s circumstances aren’t any easier and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s making this conversation about him. He blinks, trying to stop the flow. “Don’t mind me. I’m just tired. I’m really fine.”

“I think you need someone to take care of you right now.” Shiro rises to his feet, moving to stand next to Keith. His metal fingers graze lightly over Keith’s scalp. “Let me.”

It’s impossible not to lean into his touch. Keith’s head rests against Shiro’s side, exhaling. “I’m not really good at that. I’m, you know, better when it’s me taking care of everybody else.”

“Ah, that just means you need a little practice.” Shiro’s fingers card through Keith’s hair, making goosebumps rise on his arms. 

“What are you,” Keith stops, a breath caught in his throat. He reaches out and tugs on Shiro’s sweater. “What are you really doing here?”

Shiro laughs, soft and sweet. “Haven’t you ever been on a date?”

Keith looks up, eyes wide. “What?”

A flush creeps up Shiro’s neck. “I mean, I probably should have said. Or like, asked you. I, uh, I’m not an expert myself. I watched a lot of crappy teen movies in the hospital but I didn’t actually, you know, get to have what you’d call a regular growing up. With, like, dates.” His smile is bashful. “I mean, I wore a lot of gowns with no backs. No one asks you on a date when you walk around in those blue things with the ties.”

Keith stands, an arm slipping around Shiro’s waist, hugging him close. He’s never met anyone in his life more precious than Shiro, and the thought of him in a blue gown alone makes his chest ache. “I would’ve.” His cheek presses into Shiro’s shoulder. “Asked you out.”

Shiro’s breathing hitches. “I would have said yes,” he says quietly. “I still will, if you’re asking.”

He tips up his chin, meeting Shiro’s gaze. “I guess technically it’s too late, if we’re already on one.” He curls his fingers in the cable-knit fibers, “but since this is my first one, I think we get to make up the rules.”

“Do the rules say I can kiss you?” Shiro asks, his palm warm against Keith’s back.

“They do say you can.” 

Keith goes still as Shiro’s mouth presses against his, gentle as the snow falling outside. He’d always wondered what his first kiss would be like, who it would be with, and the reality is far better than anything he could have hoped for. Shiro pulls back, grinning, face flushed. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Same.” Keith leans forward, kissing him back. His hand splays over Shiro’s chest and even through his sweater, Keith can feel Shiro’s heart pounding. The sensation gives Keith a bit more boldness, knowing that Shiro’s pulse is going as fast as his own, and he opens his mouth a little, touching his tongue against Shiro’s lips. 

Shiro lets out a soft groan as he slides a hand underneath the back of Keith’s shirt, fingertips claiming the small of Keith’s back. “Keith,” Shiro whispers, diving back in for another kiss, until it’s impossible to say which kiss they’re on at this point; they’re all just blending together now into a perfect string of touches and hitched breaths and needy sounds. For a moment, Keith feels a surge of pride. He’s actually pretty good at kissing. 

It’s perfect, that is, until Keith’s mouth opens mid-kiss and it turns into a yawn. 

“Shit,” he mutters, turning his head away. His cheeks burn. Maybe Shiro won’t say anything. Maybe they can just keep going.

“Did you just,” Shiro says, his hands coming to cup Keith’s cheeks. “Yawn?”

“I’m sorry.” Keith can’t even look at him. “It’s not you. Obviously it’s not you. You’re the hottest person who’s ever lived on Astermel and I’m kissing you and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me but I haven’t slept for, like, two days and I didn’t mean to...do that.” Keith winces. “Can we please just go back to kissing and pretend that didn’t happen?”

“You’re tired.” Shiro kisses Keith’s forehead. “You need to lie down. Get some sleep.”

“But the kissing,” Keith protests. “It was so good, I mean, aside from the yawn--I promise I won’t do that again.” He’s babbling, but he can’t seem to stop. 

“There can be kissing again after you rest, if you want.” Shiro tugs a little on Keith’s shirt. “Do you keep something here for you to sleep in? I mean, I’m already in pajamas, but I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans.”

Keith’s breath stops for a moment. “You’re staying?” He shakes his head. “I mean, of course you are, it’s a blizzard out there. You have to stay.” He’s so overwhelmed from the smell of Shiro’s magic and the taste of Shiro’s mouth and the fact he’s been on a _date_ this entire time that he can barely function. “Um, yes. Pajamas. I have them.”

He unbuttons his flannel, fingers fumbling with the buttons before hanging it on a peg near the fireplace, and tugs off his jeans before replacing them with a pair of cotton pants he keeps on a shelf by the bed. It’s an old twin mattress from the attic, the frame cobbled together from a secondhand dealer at the farmer’s market who let Keith trade a bottle of wine for it. “We’ll share,” Keith says, looking at the bed and then up at Shiro. 

“I can crash on the floor,” Shiro says. “I don’t want to impose.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re not sleeping on the ground. I’m not that big. We’ll fit.” He turns off the lights over his workbench. Kosmo’s curled underneath, Black sleeping on his back, and Keith gives Kosmo a scratch behind the ears. “Sleep well, you two.”

He climbs into bed, careful to keep his body on the edge of the mattress, and feels the surface dip with Shiro’s weight.

“Are you cold?” Shiro asks, his voice quiet in the dark. 

He’s freezing. “I’m not cold.”

“I can feel you shivering. C’mere.”

Keith turns over and his face bumps against Shiro’s shoulder. A warm arm curls around him, pulling him a bit closer, and Keith settles against Shiro’s chest, trying not to tremble. Shiro’s sweater is gone, and in its place is a thin t-shirt that makes the firm landscape of his well-muscled torso easy to feel. He’s warmer instantly, but he’s also acutely afraid that his own body might give him away. 

Shiro kisses his hairline. “You okay?”

“I mean.” Keith tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t quite get his lungs to cooperate. “You’re here. In my bed. And we just kissed.”

“You’re freaking out?” Shiro doesn’t sound judgemental at all; more of a statement of fact.

“A little bit?” Keith tentatively snakes his arm over Shiro’s belly. God, he is hot. “Like this is amazing. So good. Don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out in a good way. But it’s you? You’re my best friend.” He buries his face against Shiro’s perfect pecs. “And I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up. All you do is make things better.” 

“Shiro.” As if the boy in his bed hadn’t made Astermel glow from the moment he set foot on the island. 

“You’re a healer, right? Makes sense to me.” His left hand drags lightly along Keith’s side. “Just relax. Get some sleep. We’ve got Kosmo and Black looking out, right? They’ll keep us safe.”

The after-rain smell starts to surround Keith, magic wafting in the air in a lazy circle around them. Keith closes his eyes, letting his muscles lose a little of their tension. He’s warm and tucked against Shiro’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his ribcage. Under his ear, Shiro’s heart keeps a relaxed rhythm, the gentle beats inspiring Keith’s own pulse to decelerate. He’s never been close to Shiro like this, not enough to be able to feel his heart and his breath, the very life that glows inside of him. Even as Shiro’s magic seeps some calm vibes into him, it’s hard for Keith not to be overwhelmed by how vibrant he is, how alive. 

He curls his arm a little closer over Shiro’s stomach, aware that the hem of Shiro’s shirt has risen up a bit as their skin touches. “I can hear your heartbeat,” Keith says softly. 

“Do you, uh, want to move? Is it bugging you?” Shiro’s muscles tense in preparation to shift.

“No. It’s really nice.” Keith nuzzles closer. “It’s really calming. Reminds me of your magic.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it. Feels really good, being this close.” His eyes slip closed, his mind drifting along with the steady beats. He’s never slept beside anyone like this before, but the last thing he thinks before he finally drifts off is that he could definitely get used to this feeling.


	4. Spring

**SPRING**

Keith steps back from his workbench, taking a moment to admire the row of small, colorful bottles that catch the light on the shelf above. 

Every single one is infused with magic. His magic. 

Pride swells in his chest as he picks up an indigo bottle and smells the light fragrance of valerian.The irony isn’t lost on him that learning how to make an elixir for sleep cost him weeks of rest. Every bottle on the shelf represents months of work and study, of pushing his magic and body as far as he could in order to learn. Keith knows how far he has to go, but coming into the last season of his apprenticeship—provided he’s granted completion—gives him a new sense of momentum. Ulaz always says that it takes a lifetime to learn to be a healer, but that the first year is the hardest. 

It’s been the most stressful and exhausting year of his life, but Keith wouldn’t trade a second of it. He touches his phone, bringing up the screen, where a picture of him and Shiro take up the background. They’re in winter coats and mittens, holding hands as they stand in the snow, with Kosmo between them and Black perched on Shiro’s shoulder. It was taken a few weeks after their first kiss, and Keith opens his phone about a dozen times a day just to look at the picture. His dad had snapped it during a rare afternoon off, and they’d walked through the snowy vineyard with Keith’s parents and Shiro’s grandparents, sharing a meal together afterward. Shiro had gotten a little tipsy but he hadn’t spilled any secrets other than him whispering “I really need to kiss you, can we sneak outside?”, so Keith’s take on his parents’ wine held true. 

They’ve been together a few months now, and even though they’re mostly reduced to calls and texts because of Ulaz and Ryder’s workloads, Keith still can’t believe that Shiro is _his_. Being best friends with Shiro is exponentially better now that he can kiss him. And, Keith thinks, blushing at the thought, maybe some other things. They’re taking it slow, but every time Keith gets to touch him or hold him, his heart beats so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t get lightheaded. 

Normally by now Kosmo would be bugging him for a snack, but since his parents are at the farmer’s market and the poor pup’s been staying by Keith’s side in the cottage all weekend, he sent Kosmo along with them to get a bit of fresh air. He’s had the windows open in the cottage for the better part of the day, letting in the crisp spring breeze, but the wind’s starting to pick up and the temperature’s starting to drop, so he pulls the panes shut. Poor Kosmo, he thinks. A storm’s coming in and he hates the rain. At least his parents have the van. 

A single, small jar of honey sits on his bench, left by Shiro on his front step before Keith even got up this morning. He’s been saving it all day, knowing that Shiro would text him after his beehive job on the other side of the island, something about moving a hive that had burrowed into the wall of an abandoned barn. It’s the first jar from his farm hives, and Shiro’s been desperate to show Keith what “real” honey tastes like. A note tied around the rim says, “Honey, you’re the bees’ knees.” 

God, he’s perfect. 

Keith opens up the jar and sticks the spoon from his very cold morning tea into the honey, scooping up a spoonful. He licks the honey, the sweetness bursting on his lips. It tastes like summer, like joy, like sunshine. A laugh rises in his throat as he picks up his phone. 

_You’re right,_ he texts. _The honey does taste better when the bees are happy. I’ve never tasted anything like this._

He hits send, but the message spins and fails. No bars. “Shit.” Peeking out of the corner window, he sees the clouds gathering overhead, how dark it’s suddenly getting. A smack hits the window, followed by another as the rain starts. He lets out a sigh, making sure a metal bucket is in the corner by the sink; the roof leaks and this already seems to be starting off strong. Shiro promised to help him repair the roof when the weather gets warmer. For a moment, a lazy smile comes over his face. He ponders Shiro with a tool belt, the two of them climbing up ladders and drinking lemonade as they fix the thatch. He daydreams more now than he used to. 

Settling back onto his stool, he takes another spoonful of honey before he cracks open the book on the nervous system that Ulaz gave him to read before tomorrow, letting himself savor the sweetness for a moment longer before he gets back to work. He’s halfway through chapter one when he hears a muted sound from outside his door, halfway between a yowl and a cry. 

“What the hell…” Keith gets up and opens the door, finding a soaked little cat meowing in the rain.

“Black!” Keith scoops her up, holding her close. “What are you doing here?” He’s never seen her without Shiro, not since the day he put her in Shiro’s hands. She’s drenched and trembling, and as Keith presses her against his chest, she butts her head into his ribs. A silver breakaway collar is around her throat, and when she nuzzles along Keith’s shirt, he sees something tied there. He carries her to the workbench, setting her down to get a closer look under the lights. A ripped piece of fabric is knotted around the collar. When Keith unties it, his breath stops. 

It’s an unraveled piece of Shiro’s sweater, a small corner of it flecked with red. It’s the sweater Shiro’s Jiji made for him, imbued with his Baba’s magic. “Black,” he says, even though he knows he doesn’t have any powers that will let her understand him. “Where’s Shiro?” Black peers up at him, shaking her body once before meeting his gaze and mewing. 

“Shit, he sent you to me, the phones are down,” Keith babbles, starting to pace while he thinks out loud. “Okay. Shiro needs help. He could be hurt. Shit. Shit.” 

He can do this. He can’t call for help, and the rescue crews aren’t close by. It’ll be faster if Keith goes to Shiro first. Grabbing his backpack, he sweeps his elixirs in, along with a first aid kit and extra supplies: a water bottle, extra clothes, blankets. He tugs on a hoodie, putting Black in the hood as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, little bean. We’ll find Shiro.”

The van, he remembers once he’s standing in the pouring rain, is gone. His ten-speed will take forever, not to mention get stuck once he’s past the McClain’s farm. Instead, he races to the garage, digging out his dad’s dirt bike. It makes his mother crazy every time he rides it, and even though she never wanted him to teach Keith, he definitely learned how to ride it. He plunks on the helmet and starts it up, praying the engine turns over, and sighs with relief when it rumbles to life. There’s a half a tank of gas in it, which will at least be enough to get him to the other side of the island. 

The bike roars to life as Keith sets off from their property, rain splattering his face-shield. Black’s claws dig into the back of his neck, but to her credit, she burrows into Keith’s hood and hangs on. He’s not exactly sure which barn Shiro’s working in; the other side of the island flooded last year and some of the older properties are still being repaired, which means there’s fewer people around to hear if Shiro’s calling for help. The thought of Shiro hurt or trapped makes him gun the throttle, pushing the bike to the limit of its speed. He just needs to find Shiro’s truck.

He barely registers the ride across the island; all he can hear is the wind and the shrill whine of the bike’s engine as he races down dirt roads, taking the shortcuts between farms that only a lifelong dweller of Astermel would know. The rain only pelts harder, and at times he’s barely able to see through the thin plastic over his vision. He flicks it up out of the way, tilting his head down to keep the water from hitting him in the face. The real test is going to be the river that crisscrosses this part of the island; if he doesn’t get there before the water rises, he might not be able to cross with the bike. 

The roads are getting slick and muddy, forcing Keith to drop his speed. He reaches his hand around, making sure Black is still secure against his neck. He’s not sure how much more time passes but when he finally reaches the river, he brakes, approaching more slowly. The bridge itself is already covered with water. If he’s forced to go around, it’ll take him another twenty minutes at least, and he might even have to ditch the bike. 

“What do you think, Black? Are we going for it?” Black’s pitiful mew is nearly lost in the rumble of thunder overhead. “All right. Hold on.”

Keith revs the engine and heads towards the bridge, managing his speed so he doesn’t skid out as the water deepens under the tires. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be crossing this bridge during this storm. Lightning’s flashing in the sky above and he’s riding a metal bike, soaked to the skin all while carrying his boyfriend’s cat across a river that’s overflowing to the point that it’s crested its banks. 

And yet.

For Shiro, he’d risk so much more.

The bridge groans as he streaks across, sending water everywhere, and the bike’s engine sputters before it restarts again. “Shit,” Keith hisses, coming up on a fork in the road. The storm’s getting worse and he doesn’t have time to dick around the island looking for Shiro’s truck. He knows it’s one of the farms on this side, but he’s not sure which one. He lets the bike idle for a moment, reaching back to touch Black’s fur. “Where do we need to go, little bean? Can you tell me which direction?” 

While Shiro has the ability to read animals, Keith does not, and all Black does is mew and duck her head back under Keith’s hair. 

“All right. Okay. If I were Shiro, and I was moving a bee colony out of an abandoned barn, which direction would I go in?” Black does not answer this question, either.

Keith takes a deep breath, wincing a little when lighting cracks the sky, and tries to center himself. Ulaz told him his instincts are much more powerful than he yet knows, and they’ve been working on his sensory abilities. It hasn’t been easy and most of the time Keith feels like he’s walking around blindfolded whenever they try. Ulaz is a strong healer, and he has the ability to sense someone in pain from a distance, but Keith’s only been able to do so when he’s in close proximity to them. 

Right now, he needs for this to work. 

Maybe it’s the cold settling into his wet skin. Maybe it’s the wind whipping around him, driving out all other sounds. Maybe it’s the way his heart’s pounding with fear and hope. Maybe it’s the fact that he needs to find Shiro more than he needs to breathe. 

Suddenly, unexpectedly, a feeling rises. It’s small, like the way a crush begins, just the glimmer of something around his stomach, a flutter of _something_. It’s enough of a tug to start to pull him towards the left fork and Keith gives the bike some gas, following his instincts. Part of him starts to spiral--what if he’s wrong, what if this isn’t his magic but just him convincing himself it is?--but he forces himself to push those thoughts down. They’re not helping him right now, and they’re certainly not helping Shiro. 

He follows the feeling as it grows stronger, like a beacon in the dark. The roads get worse, his tires slipping, and he nearly goes down, catching himself on one leg to prevent the bike from tipping. Up ahead he can see a dark shape, but the pouring rain makes everything difficult to see. It’s not until he’s almost in front of it that he sees a gleam of chrome in a flash of lightning: Shiro’s truck.

Keith guns the bike, racing towards the barn. The massive structure looms ahead, and using his headlight to see by, Keith pulls up to the half-open door, hopping off to walk it inside. 

He takes off his helmet. He can’t see much, but the building seems like it’s still in disrepair, and he nearly trips over some scattered broken wood left on the ground. “Shiro! Are you in here?”

He props the bike and flicks on his phone, using the flashlight to get a better view. Thunder crashes overhead, startling him. Black leaps down from his shoulders, shaking off her wet fur before stalking further into the barn. “Shiro!”

“Keith!” Shiro’s strained voice calls back. “I’m up here! Be careful! The floor’s not stable.”

Keith’s heart leaps at the sound. “I’m coming! Don’t move!” He flicks the light towards the walls, scanning it up ahead as far as the illumination allows. A ladder leads up to the loft and Keith climbs, his hands shaking as he holds the light. 

The first thing he sees is a sizable hole in the middle of the loft floor, and the second is Shiro, collapsed on his side near the wall. “Oh, shit. Shiro, I’m here.”

He races to Shiro’s side, dropping to his knees beside him. The light flashes on his pale face and a streak of blood on his cream-colored sweater. Keith knows he should try to assess his injuries, try to focus, but he can’t help but touch Shiro’s face and smooth back his forelock. “It’s going to be okay.” He grabs Shiro's flesh hand; his fingers are freezing. “Tell me what hurts. What happened?”

“Black…I sent Black.” Shiro’s voice is ragged. Keith wonders how long he’s been calling for help.

“We found you. She’s here with me.” Black mews, approaching Shiro’s face and giving it a tiny lick. 

Shiro leans his head against Keith’s thigh. “You found me.”

“Of course I did.” He circles his fingers around Shiro’s wrist, pressing in over the radial pulse. He knows he’s not getting a perfect count of the beats, but it’s fast and weaker than Keith would like. “What hurts?”

“Was trying to get,” Shiro says, wincing, “the last part of the bee colony from the loft. I sent Ryner home. Storm was coming. I was finishing up and came back to get my things, but my right foot got stuck and the floor gave way. I was able to hang on and pull myself up, not fall through, but my ankle is killing me and,” he stops, pausing to take a breath, “I think I’m bleeding.” 

“Okay,” Keith says, trying to exhale out his fear. “You didn’t hit your head or your back or anything? Didn’t pass out?”

“No, I’ve been awake for every miserable second, I promise.”

Keith shines the light over Shiro’s head for good measure, feeling with his hands to make sure there’s no injury there. “All right. I’ll check on your ankle in a second, but I’m worried about the bleeding. Where does it hurt?” He starts reaching out with his magic to sense for injury, but the sensation is overwhelming and hard to parse.

Shiro gestures at his midsection. “My right side. I think maybe I scraped it.”

“You okay if I look?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Keith lifts the light and he sucks in a breath as he lifts Shiro’s ripped sweater. “Fuck.”

“Baby, that’s not helping me calm down.”

Usually the use of a pet name would have Keith blushing to his ears, but right now the gravity of it is lost on Keith. “That’s not a scrape. That’s deep. You need help. You need a healer.”

“You _are_ a healer.”

“I know! I’m saying you need a real one.” Keith can feel his own heart rattling in his chest. A long gash runs along Shiro’s side from the bottom of his ribs to the top of his hip bone, and his stomach rises and falls in shudders, breathing elevated. “Shit. Shit.” Shiro should have Ulaz, someone who could fix everything, who wouldn’t panic. It’s hard to think and Keith feels bile in the back of his throat. 

“I trust you,” Shiro says, voice weak as he reaches for Keith’s hand. “Your magic’s strong, always has been. I believe in you.” The comfort is sweet, but guilt rises when he realizes Shiro’s trying to care for him, when it should be the other way around. 

He’s got to pull himself together. Help is far away and with the storm still raging, there’s no one to call. “I’m going to do everything I can.” After he takes off his backpack, he uses the phone light to look at the elixirs he has on hand. He spies broken glass, the strong scent of spilled elixir in his nose, and wants to sob; the green bottle is broken, the one for pain. Carefully he pulls out one in a blue bottle. He needs to use this before he tries to heal the wound. “Can you drink this for me?” 

Shiro nods and Keith unstoppers the bottle, tipping the elixir into his mouth. He grimaces, swallowing it down. “Tastes like mouthwash.” 

“It’ll protect you from infection.” He shakes his head sadly. “The one for pain broke on the way here. I’m sorry.”

Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand. “The pain’s not that bad.”

He knows Shiro is bending the truth for his sake, and it makes his throat burn. “I’m going to try to heal this with magic. I don’t like staying here but I’m worried if we try to move you without closing it that you’ll bleed too fast.” Keith grabs wipes from his first aid pack, using one to disinfect his hands and then a few more to clean around the wound. Shiro lets out a muted groan as he works and Keith murmurs apologies, hating that he’s causing Shiro more pain.

“I know this sucks and you’re hurting a lot, but if you can keep still, it’ll really help while I do this.” Keith feels his hands shake even as he tries to hold his voice steady. “If the pain gets worse or you need me to stop, tell me.” Keith’s not exactly sure how he’d stop the magic once he starts, but he’s heard Ulaz say this to patients and it feels important. 

“Okay.” Shiro’s expression is tight, his skin damp and pale, but he’s so brave that Keith could cry. 

“I’m going to start,” he says, half for Shiro and half for himself. He lifts his hands and places them on Shiro’s abdomen on either side of the wound, feeling the flutter of Shiro’s pulse under the skin. “Just try to breathe.”

Keith closes his eyes for a moment to focus, picturing a well like Ulaz taught him, and concentrates on drawing on his magic, pulling it up and sending it into Shiro. Most of the time he’s doing this with bottles of elixir, imbuing his magic into the mixtures, but some healers are able to use their powers on others, able to heal directly and in some cases do more than an elixir might. Keith’s practice on others has been limited, though, and this wound is more serious than anything he’s healed before. 

He senses Shiro’s pain, not its sharpness but its presence, deep in Shiro’s side and circled around his ankle. It’s overwhelming at first, the pressure stealing Keith’s breath until he remembers that it’s not happening to him, and that he can help stop it. This is why he’s spent the last year reading stacks of books and memorizing anatomy, why he hasn’t had time to sleep or to kiss this beautiful boy: because he needed to learn how to save him. 

Keith’s magic rises like a tide and he grits his teeth, focusing his power into Shiro. The transfer is shaky at first, making Shiro’s body tremble, but once it stabilizes, he feels Shiro’s breath deepen. Slowly, carefully, his magic starts to heal the wound, knitting torn flesh back together. It takes every ounce of Keith’s concentration to direct the flow, and he’s dimly aware that his own body has gone rigid, muscles tense and sweat breaking out over his skin despite the chill. As he watches the wound begin to close, he senses Shiro’s pain start to diminish, even feels his abdomen soften a little as the discomfort drops. He wants to talk, to comfort Shiro, but he can’t speak or move; all he can do is pour magic into Shiro.

Keith’s not sure how much time passes; he’s only aware of his own pounding heart and the sensation of Shiro’s flesh under his hands, the warmth of his own magic flaring along his palms. Dizziness creeps over him as the wound finally closes, leaving an angry pink mark across Shiro’s skin. Dark bruises still linger there, and Keith knows the wound could reopen if they’re not careful, but Shiro’s not bleeding anymore. 

He opens his mouth to ask Shiro how he’s feeling, but his head goes light and he has the instinct to lie down before he passes out, collapsing on the floor next to Shiro. 

“Keith!” Shiro scrabbles for his arm, squeezing it. “What’s wrong?”

His head swims but he’s still conscious. Good. “Lots of magic. Just need a second.” Breathing feels a little difficult, but it’s getting easier now that he’s stopped the flow. “Are you okay?”

“Look what you did!” Shiro’s fingers skim over his side tentatively. “You healed my wound. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He grabs Keith’s hand and presses it to his lips. “You’re amazing, Keith.”

“I used as much power as I could, but—“ Keith lets out a soft groan. God, he feels like shit, but he’s never been happier to feel so awful. “It’s closed, but not completely healed. You gotta take it easy so it doesn’t open up again.” 

“My sweet healer boy,” Shiro whispers, rubbing the back of Keith’s hand against his cheek. Lightning illuminates the loft, coming in through the cracks between the wooden walls, and moments later thunder roars through the space, a deafening sound. Black arches her back and Shiro curls towards Keith, eyes shut. 

“It’s okay,” Keith says, feeling clear-headed enough to sit up again. He leans protectively over Shiro, kissing his temple. “I’ve got you.”

Shiro winces as more lightning and thunder follow, pressing against Keith. “I know it’s stupid to be scared of storms.”

“It’s not.” He lets himself breathe for a moment, grateful for Shiro’s warmth. He’s hurt, but they can manage it together, and just being next to him brings a little peace to Keith’s heart. He takes advantage of their closeness and presses his fingers along Shiro’s throat, relieved to find his pulse has steadied. “We should try to get someplace safer to ride out the storm. You’re cold and I’m worried about your temperature dropping too low.” 

“There’s a cottage near the barn. No one’s staying there right now, but the owners gave us access.”

He smooths Shiro’s damp hair back from his forehead. “You think you can walk that far?”

Even in the dim light, he can see Shiro’s soft smile. “If you help me.”

Getting down from the loft takes a fair amount of maneuvering and not a few expletives. Shiro can’t put any weight on his ankle and as strong as Keith is, by the time they shuffle their way down the ladder and get out of the barn into the pouring rain, each step takes everything he has to keep them upright. The wind is merciless and they tremble as they cling to one another, Keith’s hand shaking as he holds the near-useless phone light up to illuminate their way. When they finally open the door to the small cottage, they’re soaked to the bone.

The storm knocked out the power, but as Keith helps Shiro settle into a chair by the cold fireplace, he spies some candles over the sink. Everything feels a bit less dire once he’s able to light them, and that illumination is enough for him to discover a battery-powered lantern by the window. “There we go,” Keith says. “You have Black?”

“She’s right here.” Shiro nuzzles her close. “Poor little bean. She’s drenched.”

“I’ll get a fire going and then we can see about your ankle.”

If there was anything a child born on Astermel could do, it was get a fire started. Power went out often enough that nearly every household kept supplies at hand for just such an occasion. It doesn’t take long for Keith to get flames rising in the hearth, even though his hands are shaking with cold.

“Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He brings the lantern over and eases a cushioned ottoman under Shiro’s injured ankle. “I’m going to take off your boot. It might hurt a little.”

“I promise I won’t give you the boot.”

“Very funny.” Keith gently removes it, trying to ignore Shiro’s grimaces, and pulls off Shiro’s sock, rolling up the bottom of his sodden jeans. There’s no blood, but bruises ring his ankle and the joint is swollen. He carefully examines his ankle, feeling along the bones and tendons. As gentle as he is, Shiro still hisses with pain, sucking air between his teeth. “I’m sorry that hurt. I don’t think anything is broken, but I’m not skilled enough yet to be able to do anything with injuries I can’t see like this. I think the best thing we can do is try to wrap it for now until we can get help.”

Shiro nods, shivering. “Okay.”

“We need to get you out of those clothes.” He puts out his hand and helps Shiro to his feet, guiding him over towards the bed. As small as the cottage is, at least the fire will warm up the space quickly. Keith leans forward, kissing Shiro softly on the mouth. “I wanted to see you, but not like this.” 

“I might consider getting hurt more often if I get to have your hands on me like this,” Shiro says, lips curved in a half-smile.

“Absolutely not,” Keith retorts, wrinkling his nose. “I prefer my Shiro safe and healthy, thank you.”

“Your Shiro,” he says, giving Keith another grin when Keith drags his wet thermal over his head, leaving him shirtless, the light catching on the ripples of his abdomen. “I like the sound of that.”

Shiro’s so beautiful in the firelight that Keith finds it hard to draw a full breath. Even bruised and trembling a little with cold, he’s the most stunning thing Keith’s ever seen. He reaches out, taking Shiro’s hand and placing it on his own shoulder. “Gonna take your jeans off. Hold on so you don’t fall over and hurt another part of your pretty self.” He undoes the button of his jeans, unzipping the fly before he tugs the heavy, wet fabric over Shiro’s hips and down his well-muscled thighs. What a bee charmer and animal mage needs with a body like this, Keith will never know, but he’s grateful. 

“I like you undressing me,” Shiro says, voice soft. 

“I like it, too.” Keith can’t help but press a kiss over Shiro’s ribs. “We’ll have to try it sometime when you’re not in danger of hypothermia.” He steadies Shiro as he helps him step out of the wet jeans, and suddenly his gorgeous boyfriend is standing in front of him in only a wet pair of boxer briefs. “We should,” Keith says, schooling his expression to be as professional as he can, “take those off. That okay?”

Shiro nods and Keith starts to pull the elastic down over Shiro’s hip bones, revealing the dark hair at the base of his belly, and finally the rest of him. It’s not the first time Keith’s seen his dick before--they’ve managed a few very short, desperate handjobs in the months they’ve been together--but that was always under stress, a fevered pitch of touch and slide. This is something altogether different; it’s Shiro’s body, not as a fantasy, not as a prelude to something hot and frantic, but just _Shiro_ , vulnerable and naked. His dick is soft. Bruises and scratches mar his skin, and the red line of the wound Keith healed is a grim reminder of his injury. 

He pulls a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders, and looks up at him, his chest so tight it aches. All of his grand plans, his daydreams about the right way to tell him, the perfect moment to reveal his heart, blow away with the storm. Keith swallows, brushes his wet hair out of his eyes, and says, “I love you, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s eyes widen, gray as a gull’s breast, as silver as starlight. His expression goes soft, tender. “You took the words right out of my mouth.” He opens his arms, wrapping the blanket around the two of them like sheltering wings. “I love you, too. Love you so much.” Shiro leans down, lips meeting Keith’s. The heat of Shiro’s mouth warms him more than any fire. Their kiss is slow, gentle, perfect. A scent rises in the room, and even as the storm rages outside, all Keith can smell is Astermel after rain. 

When they finally break apart, Keith presses his head against Shiro’s collarbone. “You need to lie down. And as much as I love your magic, you should save your strength.”

“It was for you,” Shiro says, kissing his temple. “You need a little comfort, too.”

“You’re the only comfort I need.” 

He quickly wraps Shiro’s ankle, grateful the cottage owner keeps a stocked first aid kit since Keith’s is wet through, and tucks him into bed. Black jumps up beside him, curling next to him on the pillow. “Drink some water, yeah? You lost a little blood and I’m worried about you.”

“I will,” Shiro says, undoing the lid, “as long as you get out of those wet clothes and get in here with me.”

“Just a minute,” Keith says, going through his backpack. “I think I might have an elixir for--”

“You’ve given me everything I need. You’re shivering. C’mere.”

Shiro’s right; the cold has seeped into him, and even the radiant heat from the fire hasn’t quite convinced his limbs to stop trembling. He strips off his soaked hoodie and t-shirt, fingers stiff as he pulls off his boots, followed by his wet socks and jeans. He can feel Shiro’s gaze on him, heavy and light at the same time. 

“Wish I was doing that. Undressing you.”

“Next time,” Keith says, dragging off his underwear. It feels strange to stand naked in front of Shiro, but not unwelcome. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro says, sipping his water and letting out a gentle sigh. 

He grabs a hand towel from the kitchen, raking it over his soaked hair. “I’m kind of a mess.”

“My kinda mess, then.”

Keith blows out the candles and turns out the lantern, putting on the bedside table in case they need it later. He climbs under the covers, swearing under his breath as he settles himself, shivering. Shiro reaches for him, but Keith hesitates. “I’m freezing. You don’t want to touch me.”

“I always want to touch you.” 

He inches closer until he’s skin to skin with Shiro, the warm press of Shiro’s left side along Keith’s. To his credit, Shiro doesn’t even flinch, even though Keith knows he’s got to feel like ice. “Shit, you’re so warm.”

“You will be, too, in a minute,” Shiro says, wrapping his arm around Keith’s back and smoothing his palm up and down Keith’s spine. Keith’s shivering starts to subside and his breath evens out as he clings to Shiro under the blankets. In a cocoon of warmth, safe from the storm, he finally lets himself relax, lets his muscles give up their tension. “There you go,” Shiro says, “just rest. You did so good, Keith. So, so good. Ulaz would be proud.”

He buries his face against Shiro’s chest. “All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“And that _you’re_ okay,” Shiro says gently. “You gave me all your magic. Anyone else would have passed out in that loft, if they even knew how to find me.”

Keith snorts, voice muffled against Shiro’s ribs. “Well, they’re not in love with you.” 

“Only you would love me that much.” Shiros fingers start to comb through Keith’s damp hair, massaging over his scalp. “I was lying there in the dark, hoping that somehow you’d be able to find me, and I told myself that if you did, as soon as I saw you, I’d tell you I love you, but when you actually did appear, my mind just went blank.”

“You didn’t have to tell me, for me to know,” Keith says. He sighs, settling over Shiro’s heart. The rhythm is a little fast but steady against his cheek, the sound calming Keith in ways nothing else could.

“What do you mean?” 

“The honey you left me.” Keith hugs him closer, careful of his injured side. “You told me this winter that sometimes you talk to the bees about me. And it sounds crazy, but when I tasted the honey, I swear I just knew. All the love you have for me, for them, for this place, it’s in there.” He hiccups a laugh, dangerously close to tears. “You told me I never tasted honey before on the day we met. And you were right. I never did before you.”

Shiro kisses the top of his head. “What can I say, except that I can’t help pollen in love with you.”

Keith snorts, dissolving into a laugh. “You did not just say that.”

“What? I’m just saying I want to _bee_ yours.”

“Shiro.” He taps over Shiro’s hip. “You need to _bee-hive_ yourself.”

The sound that comes out of his boyfriend is halfway between a screech and a yelp. “Oh, my God, I love you so much.” 

“Nerds like us deserve each other.”

“Truth.”

Their giggles subside and quiet descends over the cottage, except for the constant drumming of pouring rain against the windows, and in Keith’s ear, the gentle beat of Shiro’s heart. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers.

“Yeah?”

“We’re naked.”

Keith smiles, smoothing a hand over Shiro’s belly. “I noticed.”

“I promise next time it won’t be because I hurt myself and nearly froze to death in an abandoned barn.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Keith doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes, the warm weight of Shiro’s head rests over his chest, one arm flung over Keith’s waist. His breathing is slow in sleep, and Black rises and falls with each breath, in her place on his back, curled up with her tail tucked over her nose. He blinks, staring at the windows. The rain has stopped. Although the fire is down to embers, tucked beside Shiro, Keith’s never felt warmer in his life.

He hears a faint beep and he reaches down to the floor, trying not to move and disturb Shiro’s sleep. He’s able to pluck his jeans from the ground, still damp, and tugs his phone out of the back pocket. The battery is almost gone, but his cell service is back. He flicks open the screen to find over a dozen missed texts. “Shit,” he whispers. He was so concerned about Shiro he hadn’t even thought about his parents or Shiro’s grandparents wondering where they were. 

He dashes off a text, briefly explaining what happened, but not ten seconds after he does, his phone buzzes.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Keith. Oh my lord, we’ve been worried sick! Are you all right?”

Shiro stirs, nuzzling closer to Keith. “Yeah, we’re okay. We didn’t have service, I’m so sorry for making you worry. Shiro got hurt. He needs to see Ulaz, I think his ankle’s pretty badly sprained. Oh, and tell Dad I took the bike.”

“You took the bike in that storm? Are you out of your--”

“Shiro was on the south end alone. I had to.”

After Keith explains a bit more, his mom jumps into rescue mode. “We’ll get Ulaz and bring him out to you. Just hold on, kiddo. We’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up and smooths a hand over Shiro’s hair. “Hey, baby.”

Shiro presses his face into Keith’s chest. “Hey.”

“Are you hurting?”

He nods. “Little bit.”

“Ulaz and my parents are on their way.”

Shiro groans. “But then we’ll have to move.”

“I mean, yeah, I’d rather not be naked when they get here.” He kisses Shiro’s crown. “You need a healer, though. It’s a good thing they’re coming.”

“I like you healing me much better,” Shiro says, squeezing around Keith’s middle. “Hey, Keith.”

“Hey, what?”

“I love you.” He huffs a soft breath over Keith’s skin. “We say that now.”

Keith grins, overcome by the precious boy in his arms. “We do say that now. Love you, too.”

Shiro tilts his head to kiss over Keith’s heart. “Do we have time for one really good kiss before we have to put on wet clothes and face the outside world again?”

“I think that we should decide right now that we always have time for one really good kiss, no matter what.” He helps Shiro turn onto his back, careful of his right side. Black yawns, jumping off the bed and settling in front of the fireplace.

“I like the way you think.” 

He smooths back Shiro’s forelock, which is a little rumpled from sleep and only makes him look more adorable. “Once we get you all fixed up, maybe you could come back to my cottage? Not to brag, but this hot boy gave me some really amazing honey, and I could make you breakfast.” 

“You saved my life and you’ll make me breakfast? What kind of mage are you?”

“Yours.” Keith smiles, pressing his mouth to Shiro’s, and breathes in the scent of the world reawakening after rain.

Of all the good things on Astermel Island, kissing Shiro is sweeter than wine, than honey, than anything Keith’s ever tasted, but knowing Shiro loves him is sweeter still.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I'm on tw @ starlitruns ✨


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